Flame and Ash: Brothers Fall
by theherocomplex
Summary: An exploration of Thor and Loki's relationship: A new ally helps Loki escape Asgard's prisons, but the price of his freedom threatens all the realms. When the depth of Loki's betrayal is revealed, Thor's faith in his brother is sorely tested. Can Thor save Loki from his madness and despair, or will he risk everything and be destroyed? Trigger warning for self-harm on Chapter 9.
1. Chapter 1: Grief

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

_"Why should not my cheeks be starved and my face drawn? Despair is in my heart. My brother whom I loved, the end of mortality has overtaken him. Because of my brother I am afraid of death. How can I be silent, how can I rest? He is dust and I shall die also and be laid in the earth forever"  
_

_The Epic of Gilgamesh  
_

* * *

The cell was dark. It didn't bother him. Neither did the fact that he knew he was being watched every moment, by eyes that could see even when there was no light. He was watched when he ate, when he slept, when he took a shit (that was a little degrading, he had to admit, but it was worse for whoever was watching). He was watched all the hours that he sat still as stone, staring into the darkness until his eyes, desperate for stimulation, started creating bursts of impossible color and shapes. He saw Thor, hammer raised and drawing down lighting; he saw Odin, covered in light; he saw Fandral laughing as he outran Sif in a race.

He saw a city burning.

It was a pleasant way to pass the time.

They brought his food to him at irregular intervals so he couldn't track the passage of days. Once they brought him four meals at once and then nothing, nothing for so long he had to lick moisture off the cool stone walls of his cell to quench his thirst. It was humiliating. They wouldn't let him die, he knew that, but they would make it very hard to live. Every moment of the rest of his life would be blind loneliness and pain. It was very poetic; Asgardians prided themselves on their justice and making the punishment fit the crime.

For a god who had fallen through the abyss and seen the worlds that waited on the other side, it fell a bit short.

He saw those worlds too, in the darkness. The great unspeakable shapes moving slowly through the deep, eyes gleaming with bright malice, the witless noises of the suffering, and beneath it all, the steady thrum of the machine as its engines began to move. He missed it.

He was thinking on the machine when the door to his cell opened. He had a visitor.

The light in the hall outside was kept dim on purpose, to keep any long-term prisoners from being blinded when they were finally released, but it was bright enough to dazzle his eyes. When his sight finally cleared, he saw only a figure, silhouetted harshly in the light, standing in the doorway. Behind it, he could just make out the still form of a guard, lying in a dark puddle.

Something dripped from the visitor's hand.

"Liesmith," said the visitor, and tossed something at his feet. It gleamed dull gold in the faint light: a helmet, two horns. There was blood on it.

Loki smiled.

* * *

Gods didn't get hangovers.

Thor wanted to meet whoever came up with that little gem. His eyes felt like they were full of sand, his mouth tasted like bilge snipes had been using it as a toilet. And it hadn't even been worthwhile. The mead hadn't even dulled the sting of regret.

"It is a darkness of his own making, my son," Odin said when Thor protested against Loki's imprisonment. "Until such time as he finds his way clear of it, he must remain apart from us all."

Too much time to himself was a great deal of Loki's problem, Thor thought. Too much time with his books, his lore, his magic - and now he was alone, possibly forever. It burned him, to know in spite of all his efforts, all his love and loyalty, Loki still remained beyond his reach. Thor hadn't needed to close his eyes to see Loki falling; the image played out in a constant cycle in his mind's eye.

_He wept as he fell. My brother, weeping as he fell into the abyss and I could offer him nothing but words. My strength could not bring him back._

Thor wasn't much for introspection. He decided, he acted, he dealt with the consequences. And now, he was dealing with the consequences that followed his decision to drink himself into a stupor.

It took a very long time for gods to get drunk. Sif gave up after a day and night, and the Warriors Three abandoned him once the third day started and Thor showed no sign of sobering or bathing. He didn't cry, didn't talk, didn't move - he just drank, flagon after flagon of mead. By the fourth day, he was sick to his stomach but he had finally stopped seeing Loki falling, so he kept drinking. On the fifth day, he stumbled into his chambers, ready to sleep off the mead and rise strong and if not whole, at least healing. He fell into bed, stinking and sweaty but finally at peace, when a breeze blew the curtains back from his window the moment before he fell asleep. A flicker of green darted across the night sky: the shade of Loki's magic, before the tesseract tinted it with new colors and he couldn't recognize Loki any longer. He was weeping before he could stop himself. His gut twisted in on itself and he was too slow, too drunk to make it out of bed before he was sick all over himself and the bedclothes. His failure ate at him, it burned in his heart and his eyes, and Loki was falling, falling forever and now there was no light for him either -

* * *

When Thor rose, it was eight days later and Loki was gone.

The news of Loki's escape came to him in a whisper. Fandral and Sif were outside his door, deciding whether or not to rouse him. Even through the wood, their voices hurt his ears. He groaned, burrowed into the rank bedclothes to try and find sleep's peace again, when Sif, her voice rough, snapped at Fandral.

"He is still Thor's brother, Fandral, whatever his crimes. Thor would want to know what has happened."

_Brother. My brother._His head ached. He sat up and the room shifted ominously, his stomach rolling with it. After a moment, it seemed that he would be able to stay upright, at least temporarily. He listened again, his heart clutching at the hope that he had misheard, and knowing he hadn't.

"And what would he do? Loki is gone, Sif, and we know not where. He -" Thor stumbled out of bed. He barely took two steps before his feet tangled with each other and he crashed to the ground. The door to his room flew open and Sif was beside him, her hands cool on his face.

"Thor, Thor, you should yet be resting, you should not -"

He snarled at her, teeth bared like an animal, and he had enough time to feel ashamed at the way her face fell before Fandral tried to lift him.

"Loki," he groaned. "My brother..."

"Thor, you must rest -"

"He is my brother!" Thor shouted, and immediately regretted it as his head split in two. When he could speak again, the red throbbing behind his eyes fading, he was half on the bed, his legs trailing on the ground. Sif and Fandral looked down at him, twin expressions of worry on their faces. He swallowed and was nearly sick again at the taste in his mouth. He stank.

"Water," he croaked, and a cup was in his hand. He sipped slowly, letting it wash away the fog in his brain by degrees. When he finished, his head still ached, but he felt clearer. _Clearer, _he thought, _not cleaner. My brother's tears, my brother's blood, they are on my hands._He would have wept again, even with Sif and Fandral there, if he had any tears left to give. He looked up.

Sif met his gaze, so he directed his question to her.

"Loki?"

She breathed deeply and glanced at Fandral, who shrugged.

"Your brother is gone, taken from the dungeons by someone unseen. They passed through all our defenses like smoke through a screen, and have taken him. For what, we do not know." Sif's gaze turned hard. "The Allfather calls us to an audience. It appears we have visitors, from Arnheim."

"Arnheim." Thor's tired brain couldn't follow. There had been no word, no visitors from Arnheim since he was a boy, over three millenia ago. The alliance between the realms was still strong, but Arnheim had retreated into itself, silent and secure. Thor had liked the emissaries who had visited, but the stories of their queen, a demi-goddess of strange and mournful powers, had frightened him. "What do they know of our troubles? Have they come to offer aid?"

"It seems," said Fandral, "that they come to ask _us _for aid."

"At a time like this..." hissed Sif, "they come as supplicants!"

"Arnheim has always been our ally, Sif," said Thor. He was tired, so tired. _Loki is gone._

"And yet they choose this time to ask blood price of us? To demand we aid them in their wars?" She tossed her head. "No true ally would be so selfish."

"They may not know, Sif." Thor stood up experimentally. The room didn't shift, which was promising, but his head pounded ferociously and he was very aware of how badly he smelled. "They are no cravens, no false friends who seek only aid for themselves yet hide when they are needed. We must allow them the chance to explain."

"Spoken like a king, my son." Odin's voice cut through the babble in Thor's head as it had his entire life. It was the sound of complete authority; a single syllable was enough to drop Sif and Fandral into the deepest bows and a nod dismissed them. Thor caught himself shifting from foot to foot and stopped with an effort. Even at his best, facing his father was a difficult task. With Odin in full court regalia, shining like a miniature sun, Thor felt like a grubby child all over again, about to be scolded for playing in a mudpit. The shame at his filthiness, of having failed his father - none of that had disappeared since he was a child, but now it was sharpened to a needle prick that stung his heart and forced him to be silent. Odin watched him without a word, his expression caught somewhere between pride and sorrow.

"My son, I know this news bring only grief. Your brother is gone, and even Heimdall cannot see where, or for what purpose." Odin moved to the window. The curtains opened obediently at his approach, giving him an unimpeded view of one of the castle gardens. The gardeners, insect-sized from a distance, moved silently in their clockwork duties. Thor felt a flash of envy. Their duties were clear: the simple truths of plants, earth, and water. He might have been worthy of the power of Mjolnir, and of the throne of Asgard, but his path was unclear.

Odin was silent for some time. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet - the father's voice, not the king's.

"Your friends have told you that we have visitors from Arnheim. You will remember them from your childhood, I think. Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona."

Thor frowned. The names were familiar, but the last remains of the mead made the memories dim and hard to catch. He remembered a flash of red hair, a woman's rich laugh that delighted him, even as a boy, and not much else.

"Have they told you why they come, Father? It is an ill-timed visit if they truly desire our aid."

"They have only told me that it is a matter of some delicacy," replied Odin, "and that it involves Loki, in some way."

For a moment, the roaring in Thor's ears was overwhelming. "Loki has risked our alliance with Arnheim?" he said. His brother was mad, that was clear, but that he would take part in such folly was still a surprise, even after his abortive invasion of Midgard.

"We do not yet know his part, my son," said Odin. "But it seems we must prepare for disaster. Your brother is made foolish by rage and envy. There is no telling how far he will go to ease his suffering." Odin turned to Thor, his eyes taking in his son's appearance for the first time. "It appears I am keeping you from your preparations for the audience," he said. Thor recognized the tone, unchanged from when he was a boy and needed to be reminded to bathe before every meal. He nodded, folded his arms over his chest to hide the worst of the stains. Odin gave him a smile, tired and heartsore, and seemed about to say something before turning from his son and leaving the room.

* * *

It took the better part of an hour before Thor was fit to put on clean clothes. The warm water of the bath softened the edge of his headache but it made him drowsy. He had slept for days but none of it had been restful. He was thankful he didn't remember his dreams.

He dressed with more care than usual. He remembered the Arnheim love for pageantry (his memory was clearing, thanks to the bath and the first food he'd had in over a week), and he chose his winged helm, his best red cloak, the leather vest and breeches his mother had given him after his first battle. Exhaustion still pitted his eyes and the days without food made his hands shake slightly as he lifted Mjolnir for the first time since his return to Asgard. _I look the part of a prince, but I do not feel like one_, he thought as he surveyed himself in a mirror. _How can I stand at my father's side and see the empty place left by my brother? _In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hear his brother's voice, needling him about his helmet, trying to claim his share of the glory. It was bitter to remember every time he had belittled Loki's part in their adventures. How often had his magic saved them? How many times had he followed Thor into battle? Too bitter. Nothing could wash it away.

"Thor?" Sif stood in the doorway behind him, dressed in silver and black, her hair loose on her shoulders. "It's time." She half-smiled, unsure until he smiled back. He crossed the room in three quick strides and touched her face.

"Sif, forgive me for my words earlier. I spoke from grief, and harshly."

She looked away, the way she always did when she was about to cry and wanted no one to see. "There is nothing to forgive," she said. Her voice trembled but after a moment, she lifted her eyes to his. Tears gleamed along her lashes. Her smile was steady. "We all mourn him, Thor," she said. "He is your brother, but he is our friend. Don't ask for forgiveness for this."

Her _is _squeezed at Thor's heart. Loki still had their love. There was hope yet.

"Are you two finished dressing? I'm _famished _and we won't get to eat till after the audience."

There was a beat of silence, and Sif and Thor both burst into laughter. Volstagg leaned around the corner, grimacing as a very audible growl came from his stomach.

"Truly! I have not eaten for hours."

"Of course, my friend," Thor said through his laughter. "We should not have kept you waiting." He clapped Sif on the shoulder and left his room. The hallway was bright and full of fresh air. He felt a little lighter.

Until, in his memory Loki fell again, tears streaking his cheeks, his voice a little boy's, and grief settled on Thor, thick and cold.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback.


	2. Chapter 2: Marrow

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

Loki was surprised to discover he wasn't as patient as he used to be. He blamed Thor for that; his brother's complete inability to wait, to consider, to weigh the options, must finally have rubbed off on him.

_Brother._ That was a habit he'd have to stop.

He realized he was pacing again. The room was exactly twelve paces to a side, comfortably appointed but windowless. That didn't matter; there wasn't much to see outside in any case. Just darkness. He would much rather look on the silk pillows, the plush carpet, the wall hangings thick enough to blot out any sound from outside the room - except, of course, for the machine. Its hum was ever-present, just below the normal range of hearing. It was a vibration along the bones, it was a shiver in his gut.

The machine was waking up.

Until it did, he would simply have to wait. A task that was growing more difficult by the moment. It didn't help that his memory since leaving his prison on Asgard was fragmented; he didn't remember the journey, only the weight of his helmet settling on his head and then a brief flash of painful light. After that, he had only known this room. It was luxurious, even decadent, but he wasn't interested in resting. His time in the cell had left him hungry for action. His hands craved work. He found himself pacing again, counting off the steps under his breath and made himself stop. _A king does not pace_, he told himself. _A king makes others pace, with the thought of his displeasure._

"Drot!" he yelled. The door to his chamber slid open with a half-heard sigh. A robed figure, no more than three feet high, stood in the doorway. His rescuer had given him the little creature as a servant, and told him only its name. It smelled like oil and burnt feathers and never said anything. It attended to his needs beautifully.

"How long must I be kept waiting? I grow weary of this place. Tell your master that –"

"You grow weary, Liesmith?" The voice that cut him off came from behind him. He steeled himself, waited until he was sure his surprise wouldn't show in his face, and turned to face the speaker. At the edge of his gaze, he saw Drot melt – actually melt - back into the shadows. It unnerved him.

The speaker smiled at him. Its beauty was cold and blighted; its white teeth too long and crowded into a small rosebud mouth, hair the color of winter light, and eyes red-rimmed and black-irised. Over the sharp bones of its face, its skin was smooth and polished. It gleamed. Loki still wasn't sure if it was male or female. He was starting to think it defied those classifications.

It called itself Rhurd.

"I am weary of waiting," Loki replied. He kept his tone neutral, his face blank – he was an expert at this, he played the court game better than anyone else – but Rhurd just smiled wider.

"If not for my intervention, you would be waiting still in that reeking cell in your father's palace. You are free at my pleasure." Rhurd's smile never faltered, its tone never sharpened, but Loki still felt a cold thrill go up his spine. Rhurd had saved him from the dungeon, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling that Rhurd would have been happy to crack his spine and suck out his marrow without any provocation. "As it happens, I was coming to collect you. We are ready to take the next step. The machine is ready."

"The machine," Loki breathed the word out as a sigh. He had dreamed of it, the vast infernal engines roaring on in the dark, hungry and roaring for blood. An excitement, so fierce it was almost painful, caught at his throat.

"The machine," said Rhurd. Its smile widened. "The last piece has arrived, and our great work can begin. But first, I must ask something of you."

"Of me?" said Loki. "My purpose is to guide the machine into battle, is it not?"

"Oh, it is. I would not dream of taking that pleasure from you, Liesmith. It is a small thing I ask of you – a mere detail, your attention to which will ensure the machine's success." Rhurd flicked its glance over him. "I would not ask if this task were not appointed to you, and only you."

"Appointed to me?"

"Yes. Only you are able to complete this task – it was given to you, by virtue of all that you have suffered at the hands of your…_family._ Surely you cannot protest?"

Loki grinned. His throat burned with more than hunger – once more he smelled the smoke of cities burning, and heard the cries far below. _My throne will stand above all kingdoms,_ he thought. _None shall stand before the might of my machine._

"Our machine, Liesmith."

Loki looked up, his careful neutrality gone. Rhurd smiled at him.

"You will have no secrets from me, Liesmith. The machine is ours." Rhurd's smile fell away. In its absence, the skin on its cheeks was slack and empty. "It would be wise to remember that everything here is shared."

_Gods don't feel fear_, Loki told himself, but there was no other name for the sticky tentacle that latched itself around his heart. He tried to reply but his voice had vanished. He nodded. Rhurd's smile returned.

"Now that we understand each other, let us begin your work." Rhurd waved a white hand at the door. It opened silently, and Rhurd turned its smile on Loki. "Unless you prefer to remain here?"

Loki took a step, and another. He was very aware of Rhurd's soft footfalls behind him. Only the thought of the machine carried him forward.

_Gods do not feel doubt_, he thought. He heard Rhurd laugh behind him, and, god or not, he felt doubt brush against him like moths' wings.


	3. Chapter 3: Stone

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

Rhurd lead the way through the dark, dripping corridors without saying a word, and Loki chose not to break the silence. He followed the pale figure at a safe distance; he had no interest in feeling the brush of its robes against his skin. And it hadn't been noticeable before, but Rhurd _reeked._ It smelled like carrion and dust and something unbearably sweet – something so ripe it was rotten.

"I know I disgust you, Liesmith," said Rhurd. Loki cursed himself. It was unpleasant – extremely unpleasant – to have one's mental privacy invaded. He thought briefly of Agent Barton, of Erik Selvig – of how they must have felt when he reached into their thoughts, and replaced them with his own. A wave of pity flowed through him, mingling with the light, persistent doubt that had followed him from his chamber, and he pushed them both away. The emotions were unworthy of him. They were a waste. He had no room for them.

"But however much I disgust you, do not forget that I am the one who –"

"Yes, yes," Loki snapped, "You set me free, and it is at your pleasure I still exist." He regretted his outburst when Rhurd stopped, its robes whispering around its legs, and turned to stare at him. "I mean no disrespect," he hedged, hoping his court expression was neutral enough to disguise the small thrill of anxiety that raced up his spine. "I am only eager to begin my work."

Rhurd watched him silently, the blank eyes revealing nothing. It was silent long enough to unnerve Loki completely. He resisted the temptation to keep talking, to cover his misstep – he knew that was almost always an error, as good liars always do. The less said, the better, especially when the situation was so delicate.

_With what have I allied myself?_ he thought, and waited for Rhurd to pounce – but either Rhurd wasn't listening as closely as usual, or it didn't care that Loki doubted. It smiled slightly, and bowed its head.

"Of course you are. Accept my apologies for my –," the smile faltered – "sharp tongue. The closer our plans come to fruition, the more eager we become. And eagerness makes me hungry."

Loki tried not to lick his lips and failed. He nodded. Of course it did.

Rhurd seemed on the point of making another reply when its head cocked sharply to the side. It was responding to a signal that only it could hear, but whatever it heard pleased it. It looked back at Loki with a smile that, on any other face, would have been beatific. On the dead white face, it was ghastly.

"Only a few more steps, Liesmith. Surely your patience will last that long?" Loki nodded, still unwilling to speak, and followed as Rhurd went on down the hall. The walls began to curve inward, following a spiral that tightened incrementally at every turn. They stopped before the curve was oppressively tight, but Loki felt restricted and uneasy in the tight space.

Rhurd turned to face the wall and slid one palm over the dark surface. There was no mark, no symbol, nothing to separate the wet and anonymous stone from any others, but the air above Rhurd's hand shuddered and the stone crumbled away like old wood. There was no light behind the wall, only black space. As his eyes adjusted – faster than any mortals – Loki saw a figure hunched in the corner, as far away from the opening as possible. He took a step forward, trying to see, and the figure cringed away from him.

"Begin, Liesmith," Rhurd hissed, just over his shoulder.

"Begin what?"

"The work. Enter, and begin."

Rhurd was gone.

Loki prided himself on his sense of self-preservation, and there was nothing he wanted to do less than step into a dark, enclosed space when he had only just escaped from one – but the roar of the machine was still in his ears. Whatever he had to do to hold that energy, that power, it would be done.

He took a step, and then another. The figure shrank against the back wall, as if it could burrow through the stone and escape out the other side. He took a last step into the cell and tried not to turn and rush back out when he heard the stone whisper closed behind him. He held up his hand and flicked his fingers. A will-o'-the-wisp flared into life above his head, spreading its cool green-blue light over the stone as it turned.

The prisoner flinched away from the light and tried to hide in their hair. With the wisp's light chasing away all the shadows, they couldn't hide very well. The prisoner seemed to realize this, and raised their head to meet Loki's gaze. He wasn't moved by the fact that they were young, or female, or badly beaten, but the look on her face when her eyes met his surprised him. She stood up, hope and something more subtle spreading over her features, and – unbelievable in a place like this – she smiled.

"You came -," she whispered, and reached out to him. Then the wisp's light caught Loki full in the face and she dropped her hands, the hope in her face melting away. "No. No." She turned away, hugging herself, shoulders hunched. "Not this."

Loki watched in silent thought, trying to puzzle through what was happening. Whatever drama was being acted out here, it had been constructed for the prisoner, not for him. As a born manipulator, he hated being used, but he had no idea what game Rhurd was playing or what his role in that game was.

On the other hand, Loki did like surprises. It gave him a chance to test his worth, his wits. And other than that misadventure on Midgard, they'd never yet been found wanting. Time to play.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and cursed himself. It was a weak beginning, going with the friendly routine; the woman was probably expecting a kind face after who knew how much torture, but judging by her reaction when she saw his face, she hadn't been expecting him. But who?

The question was interesting, but the game set in front of him needed his full attention. Perhaps Rhurd expected him to play the kindly stranger – if so, it was safer to go along with that now that he'd started. And if he had another role to play, well, he'd adapt. Loki was good at that.

"It wouldn't matter if you did," said the woman. She turned around and faced him. One eye was swollen shut. The other stared out at him, pale grey and quietly desperate. "Do you really think you could do much worse?" She tossed her head, a strangely familiar gesture that Loki couldn't place for a moment. Then it came to him: Sif, legging herself onto her horse. The pride was there, the disdain was there, even if this woman smelled of sad mortality and Sif smelled only like steel and leather. Loki was intrigued. A royal prisoner, no matter the realm, would be a good challenge for his wits. His doubt receded. It appeared this was a game he could play.

"I promise you," he said, with a wide smile – the smile he'd worn as the Chitauri swarmed into Midgard – "that I am quite capable of hurting you. I merely wish to assure you that I do not wish to do so. I only wish to talk."

The woman didn't look comforted. "So talk. I doubt I'll be much of a conversationalist. There isn't much going on –," she broke off as she started coughing. It sounded deep in her lungs; she must have been here a long time to cough like that. The damp and the cold got into your body and drowned you from the inside out. If she was already injured, there wasn't much her body could do to fight off the infection that was already raging through her. She coughed so hard she fell against the wall, groaning as she caught her breath, and spat a clot of dark blood on the ground. Loki shifted away with distaste, a motion the woman didn't miss. She laughed, her voice cracked and wet.

"My apologies, my lord. I didn't mean to offend, but I wasn't expecting such a fastidious visitor." The sneer in her voice infuriated him. His lips curled and his fists clenched. She glanced to his hands, then back to his face.

"Are you going to hurt me now?" she said in a voice so soft he barely heard it. "Better yet, are you going to kill me?"

"I told you," Loki hissed. His teeth ground together. "I only wish to talk." It was taking more effort than he wanted to admit to get himself under control. _She sneers at me! I, who was rightful king of Asgard!_ He shook out his shoulders, blew out a breath. She watched him, fear warring with relief in her eyes.

"And what do you want to talk about?" she said. She took a deep, experimental breath, and when no coughing fit started, she tried another. Her voice was clearer when she spoke again. "Like I said, I don't have much to say."

"Your name, then," said Loki. _What game is this? Does Rhurd wish me to kill this girl – this woman? _Without rules, without any idea of the prize, he would have to play defensively. Never his strong suit, but there were worse ways to sharpen his skills.

Like on the wrong side of Rhurd's hunger.

"My name?" The woman cocked her head at him, and her face fell into the light of the wisp. Under the grime and old blood, her face was scarred at the corner of her left eye and on the left side of her mouth. The scars were a sickly dark-green in the light. "You would know my name?"

"It is the custom to introduce oneself when meeting for the first time, is it not? Or are you from some backwater world where the natives rub noses and spit when they greet each other?" He smiled as she turned her head. Now he was on the offensive again; that was good. "I am Loki, of Asgard."

She faced him slowly. "Loki," she said. "Loki Odinsson, brother of Thor."

His brother's name – _not my brother, never my brother_, he told himself – twisted in his mouth. "Indeed. I am the brother of Thor, but that is a kind name, an untrue name, for a spoil of war."

Unexpectedly, she smiled. "Spoil of war," she murmured, more to herself than him. "I like that." She took a step toward him. She was tall, but he stood over her by a head. She smiled. Her teeth were bloody. Something was broken inside of her and her body couldn't heal itself. But she still smiled, and there was no joy in it.

"I'm Fairin," she said. "Of Arnheim."

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for reading! I really love to get feedback, and since this story promises to be pretty long/intricate, the more I hear from you guys, the more eager I am to keep writing! So let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4: Blood Price

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

"I hear Lady Anidd is the most beautiful woman in all the nine realms," said Fandral. Thor wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself; his head still throbbed but it was waiting for a chance to explode once again. He hoped the headache wouldn't linger.

Sif laughed nastily. "And I hear that Lady Ohona carries a blade between her legs, so make sure you lie with the right one or you'll lose your –"

"How could you mistake one for the other? Lady Ohona, it is said, is all ice and fire, with eyes like blue steel and hair like a sunset. Lady Anidd is a spring meadow, all golds and greens." Fandral sighed. "I should dearly love to pluck her flower…"

"Enough!" Thor snapped. "I will not hear such talk. They are our allies and honored guests." He turned his glare on Fandral. He was sure his bloodshot eyes helped him look more menacing than usual. "You will hold your tongue, my friend. Lady Anidd is no mere maiden. She is the voice of the Queen of Arnheim. Show her the proper respect."

Fandral had the good sense to look properly ashamed, but there was a gleam in his eye that meant he hadn't abandoned his designs on Lady Anidd. _Good luck to him_, Thor thought. Lady Anidd was lovely, heart-breakingly so, if his memory didn't lie. But she was the Queen's Voice, and he doubted her duties allowed for much loveplay.

The three of them walked in comfortable silence through the halls. Sif lead them through the busiest corridors of the palace and cold anxiety washed over Thor when he realized she was taking them to the bright echoing chamber where the full court could gather. He wondered how he would survive the audience. His skin felt clammy under his armor. He needed water, food, and real rest, and in that order, but he would have to settle for water and whatever sweetmeats were usually served at these audiences. His stomach rolled at the thought of the sticky, cloying favors the kitchens usually provided, and he decided he would trust only water. If luck was with him, he might be able to maneuver to a chair without looking disrespectful; he didn't trust his legs to hold him for an entire audience.

Silent as always, Hogun waited for them at the doors to a chamber just off the main hall. Thor hoped, half-heartedly, that Fandral would refrain from teasing Hogun, just this once – his head couldn't bear much noise, and any sound made in the corridor would echo unceasingly. Fandral, however, had forgotten that Thor was suffering through a god-sized hangover and shouted down the hall at Hogun.

"Not even a smile for our dear guests, Hogun? Surely you can spare a smile for Lady A—"

"If you say one more word about Lady Anidd," Thor said through gritted teeth, "I will shave that hair and mustache of which you are _so proud_ and parade you through the streets of Asgard. Have mercy, and be silent."

"That would be almost too cruel, Thor," said Volstagg. He was trying not to laugh. "You know Fandral loves that mustache more than any woman he's bedded. Any _three _women he's bedded."

"I think he named it," Sif added helpfully. She grinned at Thor. "Are you ready, Thor?" Her grin slipped slightly when she saw his expression. "Thor?"

"Ready," he answered. He wasn't ready. It was easy to listen to his friends teasing each other, but after they passed through the doors, he would have to face his brother's newest betrayal. Thor, who never ran away, never abandoned a fight, wished heartily he had the ability to cloak himself in mist and wind, and hide himself in some far corner of the palace.

_Loki, I cannot face what you have done. My brother, I would have found a way to get you out of that cell. You should have trusted me._

If there was one thing Loki would never do again, it was trusting Thor. Even if Thor managed to keep him alive this time, Loki was gone forever.

Sif took his silence as an affirmative, and pulled the doors open. The light of the fire was dimmed by a screen. His head creaked with a burst of pain, and settled into a low murmur of discomfort. He could handle that.

Three figures were grouped on one side of the fire, facing the door. One was robed and cowled, its face hidden under yards of fabric, but he recognized Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona in the dim light.

"This can't be Thor!" Lady Anidd beamed at him. "My gods, has it been so long?"

Thor's head chose that moment to send a vicious spike of pain into his forehead. It took an effort to smile back at Lady Anidd and the expression felt ghastly on his face. If it looked as bad as it felt, Lady Anidd was too polite to mention it. She swept toward him with a sly whisper of silk and gently kissed both his cheeks. She smelled like honey and sweet wine.

"It's good to see you again, lord Prince. I'm sorry it's under such circum—" she was cut off by a sharp cough from across the room. Lady Anidd pouted briefly, then turned the sun of her smile on Thor again. "Lady Ohona is glad to see you as well," she said and bowed her head.

Lady Ohona stayed where she was, standing just at the edge of the fire's light. She was exactly as Thor remembered her: tall and straight-backed, with her dark red hair braided over one shoulder. Her eyes were pupil-less and bright blue. They seemed to watch everything at once. Lady Ohona was rumored to be the Queen of Arnheim's closest confidante and guard; she was one of the few people outside the Allfather's trusted circle who was allowed to carry personal weapons into audiences. A sword was sheathed at her hip and Thor saw the gleam of her axe over her shoulder. The axe was legendary - almost as famous as she who wielded it. Thor remembered how, as a child, he had dared Loki to run his finger along the edge of the axe blade. Lady Ohona had rested the axe against her leg while she spoke with Odin, and the wicked glint of light on metal was too much to resist. Loki took the dare – he always took Thor's dares – but their mother had shrieked when she saw Loki reaching out to trace the cruel curve. The axe, she told them later, after weeping and scolding Thor till his ears blistered, had the power to make its victim mortal. One cut, one blow, and even Odin Allfather could die. The mortality was temporary, but the threat of it was enough. If Loki had cut himself on the blade…

Too bitter to think about.

Thor had heard that Lady Ohona always cut herself on the blade before going into battle. Fighting wasn't worth her time unless mortality was invoked. She nodded at Thor, friendly enough, but silent. The light from the fire brought out the golden highlights in her hair and the bright blue of her eyes, but her features were too harsh to be beautiful. She was only frightening.

Fandral was right: Lady Anidd was the lovely one, still youthful even though she had been a grown woman when she and Lady Ohona last visited Asgard. Fandral had been smitten even as a boy. Not much had changed, Thor thought as he watched his friend move to hover behind her. When Fandral caught Thor's eye, he shrugged and grinned. Lady Ohona glanced at Fandral, and tried and failed to hide a smile. Lady Anidd, after giving Thor another kiss on the cheek, greeted the Warriors Three and Sif the same way, saving the longest – and slyest – embrace for Fandral, who looked poleaxed by the experience. It was clear that the legendary seducer of Asgard had met his match. Lady Anidd winked at Thor, her eyes gleaming.

"Your father has asked us to wait here, until the people have gathered," she said, smiling, and threaded her arm through his. She was a notorious flirt, but there was something false about her merriment. It glittered, but it was a veneer over darker emotions. With her so close, he could see the lines of strain at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She looked just as Fandral described her – all golds and greens, springtime in the form of a woman – and she hadn't aged a day since Thor had first seen her. But she was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. An undercurrent of grief ran through every word she spoke. Thor felt a thread of pity for her, and tried to make his voice match hers.

"And my father offered you no refreshment? Not even wine? I hope you will forgive us, Lady Anidd – such honored guests deserve better treatment." He waved at a servant, but Lady Ohona raised a hand.

"We refused refreshment, my lord Prince," she said. Her voice was warm and smooth as velvet, a singer's voice. "We thank you for your hospitality, but we are bound to not eat, drink, or rest until our grievance is heard - by order of the Queen of Arnheim," she added, when Lady Anidd opened her mouth to protest. Lady Anidd sighed.

"By order of the Queen," she agreed. She shook her shoulders and turned her blinding smile on Thor once again. "But your hospitality is most appreciated, Thor. You truly are a prince of Asgard." She squeezed his arm. "I expected great things of you, you know, even when you were a boy. Didn't I, Lady Ohona?" she asked her companion, who stared at her, a frown nicking the skin between her brows. Lady Anidd only smiled.

Lady Ohona's reply was lost when the doors to the waiting chamber opened. No one waited for them, but the message was clear: The audience was about to begin.

Lady Anidd didn't release his arm as they left the chamber, so they walked together through the gleaming halls, accepting bows and curtseys from all they passed. When they reached the great hall, Lady Anidd released his arm to take her place before the dais. He caught a look at her face and was stunned by the swift change. Her face was hard and cold; she was no longer the charming, sweet-scented woman who brushed her lips against his cheek. She was the Queen's Voice.

Only when he took his place by Odin's side did Thor remember the third figure in the chamber. It had waited so silently, so patiently, in the shadows, that he and all his friends had forgotten it completely.

* * *

"My friends, it is with heavy hearts we come before you on this day. A grievous crime has been committed against Arnheim and its Queen," said Lady Anidd. Her voice was unamplified, but through a trick of architecture it could be heard everywhere in the great hall.

"A theft has been committed," she continued. Her voice warmed with passion. There was no doubt why Lady Anidd was the Voice of the Queen; she could make a man weep or laugh with a single phrase. She had an element of the tragic actress, a slightly mannered approach, but there was no doubting her pain. "No jewels or riches were stolen. No," and her voice became a cry, "no, what was stolen was infinitely more precious. What was stolen was _life."_

A few gasps and cries came from the gathered people, but Thor could see the way they shifted and whispered to each other. The novelty of visitors from Arnheim was quickly wearing thin. Thor glanced at his father. Odin's eyes were fixed on Lady Anidd, who stood at the foot of the dais, her fists raised above her head and her face defiant. She was breathing hard.. Thor thought she might be trying not to cry; the glitter of unshed tears brightened her eyes. She turned in a slow circle, and seemed to fix everyone with her furious gaze. There was no mistaking her for anything other than a woman of Arnheim, with rage and betrayal written so clearly on her face. They were fierce, and proud, and sorrowful, the people of Arnheim, and all their pain was carried in Lady Anidd's voice.

"Life!" she shouted, and her voice rang out through the hall and silenced the whispers. "They have stolen our life. The flame that warms us, the water that nourishes us – gone! Taken in the night by an enemy of all the free realms – by Rhurd!"

The name left her mouth like a curse. Thor reeled away from her voice. Beside him, Sif stumbled and nearly fell; only Volstagg's hand on her arm kept her from falling to her knees. Even Odin paled.

_Rhurd._

The name's effect was staggering. A hush fell and no one moved, until a child, too young by far to be at an audience, began to cry. The sound grated on Thor's ears. Lady Anidd turned back to face Odin. The tears in her eyes had fallen to her cheeks. "Our life," she said, and though her voice was quiet, it could be heard everywhere in the hall. "Our life is gone. And your son, Loki _Liesmith_," she spat the word, "is party to our pain and our betrayal." She held out her right hand, still holding Odin's gaze, and Lady Ohona stepped forward. She carried four small globes, which she placed in Lady Anidd's open hand before moving silently back into place.

Lady Anidd held up the globes. They caught the light and sent dazzling, broken shards of brilliance across the hall. "See what has been stolen," she shouted, and tossed the globes into the air.

Instead of falling, they hovered, forming a perfect square twenty feet off the ground. The air crackled around them and Thor could smell rain and salt in the air, though only a spring wind blew through the hall. A web of silver light burst into life between the globes, like miniature bursts of lightning, and in the air between them, a form began to appear. The audience's gasps were unfeigned now.

The form was a young woman's, of middle height and build, with dark hair hanging in waves to her waist. She was dressed in a red dress so dark it was almost black; the only jewelry she wore was a silver band holding her hair back from her face. Her eyes were grey. As soon as her form was complete, the globes began a slow descent toward the ground, humming with the effort. The image revolved in a gentle circle. She had the same sharp features as Lady Ohona did, softened slightly. Perhaps her brows were too heavy and her nose too arched for her delicate features, but if there had been any doubt that the young woman was of Arnheim, the proud set of her mouth and the fine bones under her skin erased it.

Lady Anidd's face was almost savage in its fury. "See what has been stolen!" she cried, pointing at the figure. "Our last hope, the last prayer of our people, stolen by a liar and a murderer of joy. They have taken the last child of Arnheim!"

_Brother!_

"We have never been numerous," Lady Anidd said. "And no children have been born to us for an age – until this child. Within her lies the key to our survival. Without her, _we die._"

Thor's heart clenched. He closed his eyes. _Oh, my brother. I cannot reach you here. You have stolen more than what is precious. You have stolen a people's way to survive. How can I save you, how can I plead for your life, when you have killed our oldest allies?_

"Be warned, Asgardians," Lady Anidd continued. "It is one of your sons who helped perpetrate this crime. For that, we claim more than blood price. _We claim his life. _And if he is not captured and punished for his part, then we go to war against Asgard."

Silence pressed in from all sides.

On the other side of the dais, Lady Ohona raised her eyes to Thor's. The axe was in her hand.

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_**AN:**_ Thank you again for reading! And please, if you have any feedback or suggestions, leave me a review! This is going to be pretty in-depth so your thoughts will help keep me going.


	5. Chapter 5: Shards of Glass

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

Lady Anidd's performance – Thor hesitated to call it an audience – ended with Odin rising to his feet, the Allfather's gaze falling on the Arnheim woman like a thunderclap, and pointing down at her from his place upon the dais.

"You would threaten Asgard with war? You, who come under the name of guest and supplicant?" His voice cracked out, quick as a knife, but Lady Anidd stood firm. She stared at Odin, unblinking, her chest heaving with outrage.

Lady Ohona silently glided to stand just behind Lady Anidd. Her eyes roamed over the guards on either side of the throne, and over the Warriors Three. There was nothing in her gaze but cold calculation. Thor recognized it; he himself had looked like that before. She was estimating her chances of beating the Warriors Three and getting Lady Anidd – and herself – out alive.

Thor was making the same calculations. The axe unnerved him. Not that he feared death, not in battle, but the quickness with which Lady Ohona had armed herself with it – that he feared. He knew the people of Arnheim were fierce warriors, but until that moment he hadn't doubted anything would threaten the alliance between their world and Asgard. He cursed himself for his naivety. He had believed Loki had only harmed the alliance.

Loki had destroyed it.

Lady Anidd had known that even as she had greeted Thor as a friend. She had claimed guest right, and then betrayed it. He felt the beginnings of a rage – a fine battle-rage – begin in his gut. His grip shifted on Mjolnir's shaft. Without needing to think, he turned himself slightly, forming a shield with his body between his mother and Lady Ohona. His gesture wasn't lost; her gaze moved to him and he knew that he would be her only target if this descended into bloodshed. He saw her fist tighten around the handle of her axe.

The silence stretched on.

Thor pulled his gaze from Lady Ohona's and glanced at his father. Odin still pointed down at Lady Anidd, his face set with rage. The entire hall was still. They were waiting to see how the audience would turn out; for the moment, it was only excellent entertainment. The furious Allfather, the bereft and grief-maddened people of Arnheim, the lost daughter – it was wonderful drama.

And none of them could see how the axe gleamed in the fading light.

"Allfather," said Lady Ohona. Her voice was still warm, still smooth, but the undercurrent was forlorn. She sounded years younger – she sounded tired. Thor felt his mother's hand slide over his shoulder and squeeze. This was the moment of decision: how would the Allfather react to Lady Ohona's words, when Lady Anidd's had been chosen to strike at the very heart of his pain?

"You must forgive our seeming betrayal," she went on. Her voice was pitched to carry no farther than the dais, and Thor heard the rustle of fabric as the crowd strained to hear what she said. "We have come to you for aid in our dark hour, and we have claimed guest right. It would seem, by Lady Anidd's words, that we misuse that right, but we needed you to understand our plight. Please," and the word was breathed out in a sigh, "grant us our first request – a private audience with your son and his companions. If this is done, I promise you, on my steel and my blood, that I will scrub out the stain that Lady Anidd's words have left upon our friendship."

Thor tried and couldn't stop a frown. They had requested a private audience with him, and the Allfather had refused. That was as it always was – the Allfather held his audiences before the whole court, not in private. "Transparency," he told Thor, when Thor had questioned his decision. "A king's actions must be beyond reproach at all times; his people must know they cannot doubt his intentions. My dealings are for all to see, not to be hidden in some quiet room."

Loki had understood. He'd smirked when Thor, still confused, had pressed Odin with more questions, questions that Odin hadn't answered. Later, Loki explained Odin also followed that tradition to ensure no one came to him with a request that could be considered backhanded, or harmful. It was a useful way of keeping his citizens honest.

Every once in a great while, Thor took a massive – for him - intuitive leap. He didn't doubt that such things were everyday events in Loki's life, but the brain-bending it took for Thor to arrive there wasn't an effort he naturally made. They came without warning, and usually involved predicting when a situation was about to turn violent. Now, he tried to force the leap. He felt like he had a knot in his head, a knot that would come loose, if he'd only find the right loop to pull –

_Is this what Loki felt like, every day? And I mocked him for his lack of strength of arms – while he was proving his true strength daily. _

The knot tightened. Thor shook his head to clear it, and the gesture caught Lady Anidd's eye. She glanced at him briefly, her gaze distant and assessing. Lady Ohona never took her eyes from Odin. Thor forced himself to stare back at Lady Anidd, while his mind turned over what had just been revealed.

His father had hidden the request for a private audience from the court – from his wife too, if the sudden tightening of the hand on his shoulder was any sign. Now the Allfather was trapped: Lady Ohona had revealed their first request, and put it to Odin again in such a way that if Odin refused, the Allfather would be the guilty party. Asgardian law stated that anyone who promised by steel and blood to repair the damage of an insult was preemptively forgiven. Lady Ohona had trapped the Allfather with just a few short sentences. But why? And why had they requested a private audience – with Thor?

Unbidden, a memory of Loki smiling slyly surfaced. "The Allfather believes he plays a long game, brother," Loki had said. "There will come a time when someone plays a longer one." Thor swallowed. He saw the game, but it was beyond him to see why it was being played. Manipulating the Allfather was just as dangerous as threatening him. Lady Ohona waited for the Allfather's response, her face a pleasant blank. She seemed to have forgotten she was still holding her axe.

Odin blinked. His eye focused on Lady Ohona, and Thor felt a surge of thankfulness he wasn't on the receiving end of his father's gaze. Even Lady Anidd was disconcerted, her strict control betrayed by her shaking hands. Lady Ohona merely stared back. Thor found himself wondering if her axe held power even over the Allfather, and while he was wondering, he heard a voice breaking through the silence. It was only when Sif whipped around to stare at him, wide-eyed, that he realized the voice was his.

"Allfather, my King," he said, and froze. Another memory, this time of Darcy, rose up: "Do you have an inside voice, dude?"

At the time, he hadn't understood what an inside voice was. Now he did – and he didn't have one. Everyone had heard him. There was nothing to do but go on.

"If it pleases you, my King, I would be happy to grant this audience." He stopped, hoping he hadn't misjudged the moment completely. His mother's hand seemed frozen on his shoulder. Lady Ohona and Lady Anidd traded wordless looks. Odin's eye fell on Thor. His mouth was compressed in a tight line. Thor felt the temptation to cringe away from his father's expression and resisted it. He held his head up, very aware of the weight of his helm on his brow.

"Very well," said Odin shortly. His inside voice was much better than Thor's. It carried, but only to the first row of the crowd. Odin turned back to Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona. His hand clenched his staff as he glared at them, the only sign of his fury. "Your request," he said, "is granted."

Four things happened at once.

Odin swept from the dais, down through the center of the crowd. After a moment's pause to touch her son's cheek, the queen followed, her steps measured but hurried.

Lady Ohona strapped her axe to her back. Volstagg exhaled for what may have been the first time since the axe made its appearance.

The globes, which had hung in mid-air, holding the image of the woman between them, fell to the ground and shattered.

And somewhere in Thor's mind, Loki smiled.


	6. Chapter 6: Wheels and Doom

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing Marvelous, but all original characters/places/things are mine.

* * *

Chapter Six: In which the nature of Loki's machine is revealed.

* * *

Thor sank heavily into a couch, bone-weary. They had returned to the chamber where they had first greeted Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona, though the Arnheim women had yet to arrive. Their robed and silent companion was nowhere to be seen. The Warriors Three and Sif followed him into the room, and sat down with quiet, careful movements. They all seemed afraid to make too much noise, as if they risked upsetting the delicate peace forged in the great hall. Volstagg's eyes were distant, fixed on a point beyond the fire. Sif and Hogun sat together on one couch, and Fandral toyed with a goblet of wine but did not drink. Thor looked down at his hands. They were steady now and his headache was gone, but the cold dread in the pit of his stomach was worse. He couldn't see the game that was being played – his father hiding the request for a private audience, Lady Ohona's smooth manipulation – it was all beyond him. He longed for something he could beat into submission. Fighting was all he understood. Intrigue was another language.

"I fought one of the Arnheim warriors once, you know," said Volstagg. He was peeling grapes, chewing them mechanically and spitting the seeds into the fire. No one had spoken from the moment they left the great hall until now. He sighed. "It was before your time. More than five thousand years ago." Thor glanced at him and Volstagg shrugged. "I'm older than all of you," he said. Thor nodded. He tended to forget that. Volstagg lacked that caution that most of the older soldiers possessed; where they were hesitant to fight, Volstagg plunged into battle, axe howling for blood.

"We came across an Arnheim woman, one of their warriors. She'd been on her own for a long time, no idea how long. You know they go mad if they're away from their people too long?" Thor frowned. Odin had told him that before Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona had visited for the first time, but like so much, Thor had dismissed the information. Loki, no doubt, had stored it up for later use.

"She was mad, and starving. Half-dead, really. I remember she had black curls, and dark eyes – she was beautiful, but her mind was gone." Volstagg shuddered and leaned forward, hands on knees, to stare into the fire. "She wept when she saw us. I believed she thought we were rescuing her. I thought, What glory! We have rescued the fair maiden. My name will be in a song by sundown.

"Then she started to laugh, and she was still weeping. That laugh – it was horrible. It was such a relief when she stopped. And then she had a blade. I didn't see where she was hiding it, but she nearly gutted old Emun with it before we knew what was happening. She was quick, like a snake. She gave me these." He slid off his gauntlets to bare three jagged scars on each forearm. They were very white against the rest of his skin. Thor had never thought to ask Volstagg where he'd gotten them. He had just assumed it was from some battle or other, and the battles he hadn't fought in were never of much interest to Thor. He felt a hot flush of shame.

Volstagg slipped his arms back into the gauntlets. "It took five of us to bring her down," he said. His voice was very calm. He might have been discussing the best way to shoe a horse. "_Five._ And she was mad, my friends. She never made a sound, not even when I nearly took off her arm. She just fought until Carm put his spear through her heart." Volstagg wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Her name was Todda," said Lady Ohona. Volstagg jumped and his bowl of grapes clattered to the floor. No one had heard the door open, or heard her enter. She was alone. She had changed from her sober dress into leggings and a dark blue tunic, belted at the waist with a brown leather belt. Her braid was twisted around her head like a crown and a helmet was tucked under one arm. When she walked into the chamber, Thor heard the slither of mail under her tunic. She was dressed for fighting.

"Todda was lost to us a long time ago," she said. She moved to stand before the fire. In the dim, unsteady light, her hair leeched away all the other color in her face and eyes. She looked carved of red stone. "She wandered too far, and too long. It happens rarely that we lose one of ours in such a way." She turned from the fire and looked at Volstagg. "Her end does not surprise me. It is usually what happens when one of us…" She moved her hand gracefully. "I hold you no ill will, Lord Volstagg."

Volstagg nodded. He seemed incapable of speaking.

"Is Lady Anidd planning on joining us for this audience?" Thor asked when the silence was threatening to stretch on. His head was beginning to ache again and his voice was sharper than he intended. Lady Ohona only nodded. She seemed more interested in the flames than in further discussion.

Thor gritted his teeth. "I thought," he snapped, and this time his voice was deliberately hard, "that this was a matter of _some delicacy_, which required action."

"It is. It does not require haste." Lady Ohona turned away from the fire.

"You have to understand," she said. "We are lost. This theft – we have experienced it before. We thought, same as now, that we faced our end. For an age we hid ourselves, preparing for death. Our hope was gone. And when what was stolen was returned to us…you cannot imagine how we rejoiced. To feel that loss again, after only just beginning to heal…" Her voice trailed away.

"Lady Ohona, you must tell us more. Why was the girl taken? Who is she to your people?" Sif shifted forward to the very edge of her seat. "And Loki, what does he –"

"Do not speak his name!" roared Lady Ohona. "He is filth, he is treachery itself, his soul is rotted –" She stopped herself and wiped the spittle from her chin. Everyone recoiled from her fury. Lady Ohona shuddered. Her blank eyes gleamed with rage, and something more – but before Thor could place it, she blinked, and her eyes were calm again.

"The girl's name is Fairin," said Lady Ohona, as if her outburst had never happened. "She was stolen from us once before. We thought her father killed her. She was alive, but she had forgotten us, forgotten her people. When she remembered, she came home." Lady Ohona smiled. The memory sweetened her expression, but only briefly. A cloud of grief darkened her gaze and she drew her hand across her forehead. "To lose her again, it is more than madness. We will not survive this time. Rhurd knows this, and it will use our weakness against us."

When she said the name, Thor felt another surge of dizziness – just as he had in the great hall. Sif groaned and closed her eyes. Lady Ohona looked at them with barely concealed distaste.

"Such mighty heroes! Laid low by only a name."

"This – this _Rhurd_ –" Thor spat the name with difficulty. It wanted to lodge in his throat and choke him. "What is it, that its name has so much power?"

"The name is bespelled to cause fear in whoever hears it. It is a cheap trick," Lady Ohona said dismissively. "I had hoped you would be resistant to its effects. I see I hoped for too much. We have had no such trouble with it."

Her sneer made Thor's head throb. He needed water, and he needed rest, not to be laughed at by this woman. He glared up at her.

"There is no shame in reacting to a spell we did not even know existed," he said, enunciating each word carefully. "You are wrong to mock us."

Lady Ohona laughed. It was a jagged sound. "Wrong to mock you? You, who lay sodden with drink while your brother escaped from your prison? You, who learned humility after banish-"

Thor was on his feet. It was impressive, he reflected, how quickly he was able to move even with a hangover.

Mjolnir caught her in the gut and flung her into the opposite wall. She splayed on her back and slid to the floor, groaning and trying to steady herself with her hands. Thor crossed the room in three strides and yanked her up by the collar of her tunic. Her feet beat a frantic pattern on the wall as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. She was lighter than he expected, even wearing mail. He turned so his forearm rested against her neck and leaned in. His face was inches away from hers; he saw how her eyes widened as he kept pushing, cutting off her air supply. But she still sneered at him, her lip curling back over her bone-white teeth, and his rage exploded. He wanted nothing more than to fill his hands with her blood. He drew Mjolnir back, only barely aware that he was going to crush her skull with one perfect blow, when he felt a feather-light pressure at his groin.

Too late, he remembered Sif's warning: Lady Ohona carried a blade between her legs. And now it was between his.

She raised an eyebrow. Her pulse beat steadily against his arm.

_Try it,_ she mouthed at him. A wheeze slipped through her lips as she struggled to breathe. She was pale and getting paler. He could crush her head with a single blow, he was sure of it, but she would still be able to slice him open before she died. Self-preservation, a fairly new addition to his personality, asserted itself. Reluctantly, his rage still pounding red in his skull, he dropped his arm and she slipped to the floor. He caught a glimpse of her knife as she lifted her hand to rub her throat. Beneath the rage, he was glad he'd let her go.

"I told you to expect great things from Thor," said Lady Anidd. She closed the door and walked over to Lady Ohona, her hand out. Lady Ohona ignored it and rose by herself. A bruise in the pattern of Thor's gauntlets was already blossoming on her throat. Lady Anidd smiled at him. "Well done, my lord Prince."

"Well done?" snapped Sif. Her sword was in her hand and she was breathing hard. "She nearly killed Thor!" She had seen the knife too.

"He nearly killed me, in case you missed it. And he _did_ swing first." Lady Ohona pressed a hand to her stomach. "That will leave a mark, Thor. There are not many who can say that." She stretched, returned her knife to the sheath on her inner thigh. She nodded at Lady Anidd. "I am convinced of his prowess. Tell them everything."

Lady Anidd beamed at Thor. His mind was still trying to fight its way through the ache to catch up with events – another test?

"You were – _baiting_ me," he growled at Lady Ohona. She shrugged.

"I would rather have fought you than the Allfather. Only one eye puts him at a disadvantage."

Thor felt the rage coil in him again. "You watch your words, woman. I could still crush you." He tightened his hand on Mjolnir's shaft.

"Oh please," snapped Lady Anidd. "This will get us nowhere, and now that my companion is satisfied, we can actually begin. Kire!" She shouted at Lady Ohona, whose hands were moving to unstrap her axe and sword. Lady Ohona glared at Lady Anidd, but dropped her hands and stood still. Fandral and Volstagg exchanged glances at the edge of Thor's vision, mouthing _Kire? _at each other. They, like Thor, had not imagined that Lady Anidd and Lady Ohona had first names. "Lady" was all the first name they seemed to need.

"Would you please sit down?" said Lady Anidd, sweeping the room with her bright gaze. Thor was thoroughly confused – the drink, the audience, the brief, abortive fight, they were perplexing enough when taken together, but now to have Lady Anidd acting like a hostess in his own home?

He sighed and walked back to his seat. Lady Ohona – Kire – moved to the left side of the fire, and Lady Anidd to the right. Something rustled behind him, and when he turned to look, he saw the robed figure slip into the room and close the door. It was impossible to tell for sure if it was male or female, though its height made him think it was male, but no scrap of skin was exposed that could help him make a guess. Even its hands were gloved in black leather. It nodded slightly to Lady Anidd, who nodded back. She took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

"We apologize for the…_theatrics_ earlier. After the Allfather refused us a private audience with you, we had no choice but to use such tricks as were within our reach to guarantee we spoke to you alone." Lady Anidd brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "We mean to ask you to return Fairin to us, Thor."

He stared at her. "You mean for me to go into battle against this _Rhurd_ and rescue this child?" He laughed.

"She is not a child," said Kire quietly. "She is a woman of Arnheim. Speak of her with respect."

Thor laughed again. It felt good to laugh – it did nothing for his headache, but it did wonders for his temper. "Forgive me, but I cannot see how I can be of any help to you. She is not of Asgard. This is not our battle."

"You never had a problem fighting battles that were not your own before," hissed Kire. Sif jumped to her feet, sword half-drawn, and it took Fandral and Hogun to pull her back to her seat. Kire flicked a glance at Sif, grudging respect in her eyes, then looked back at Thor. "Your friends are more than willing to fight for you," she said. "Would they be willing to go into battle with you?"

"A battle for which there was just cause, yes," answered Thor. "But this is your fight – not ours."

"It's a fight that belongs to both Asgard and Arnheim," said Lady Anidd. "Loki's involvement complicates matters. We believe – we're sure, actually – he was persuaded to assist Rhurd in exchange for a weapon." She looked at Thor. He fought down a rising swell of anxiety.

"What kind of weapon?"

"A war wheel," said Kire. Thor felt his stomach drop.

"They have not existed for thousands of years," he said, as patiently as he could. "All the realms outlawed them after that…massacre on Nornheim."

"All the civilized realms did," said Lady Anidd. "Rhurd has discovered the means to reconstruct one. It's dark magic, and while I don't doubt that Loki is as extraordinary a sorcerer as you are a warrior, he doesn't know with what he's allied himself."

"You say that Rhurd has found the way to make new war wheels," said Fandral. "What does that have to do with us? Or with Arnheim?"

"You're young," said Lady Anidd. Her voice was kind, but Fandral bristled. Hogun's hand on his arm was all that kept him from rising. "I mean no disrespect, but all of you are young, compared to us. We saw the wheels rise, and we saw what they did." She shuddered and hugged herself. Kire wrapped an arm around Lady Anidd's waist and drew her close. They were silent, but Thor heard a rustle of cloth behind him and had to resist the urge to turn and see what the robed figure was doing. Kire glanced up, and shook her head in response to an unseen gesture. The rustling subsided, and all was still behind Thor. After a moment, Lady Anidd regained her control, but she stayed in the protective circle of Kire's arm.

"The wheels…you've never seen anything like them. They are destruction on a scale now forgotten in all the realms. You think you know war? You know nothing," she said, and like it had in the great hall, her voice rose and grew shrill with the force of her emotions. Then, it had been rage and grief; now it was dread, horror, and panic. Thor felt an answering thrill in his bones, and a look at his companions told him they felt it too.

"They feed on what they kill. And before they come, you hear them – you hear the engines in your sleep, and you dream of blood. Yours, your family's – just blood, night after night. And then you hear them in the day – and you can't run. The wheels turn, and the land burns." Lady Anidd dashed a tear away angrily. "How can I make any of you understand? Even the Allfather would rather forget the wheels than teach the youth of Asgard about their danger. I can't blame him. I saw what was left behind when the wheels were done, and the cost we paid to stop them was so high…"

"Everyone who stood against them lost something," said Kire. She pulled Lady Anidd closer and pressed her forehead to Lady Anidd's. They clung to each other for comfort, but it was not enough to chase away the doom in their memories. "I do not know the price Asgard paid. We never asked, out of respect for our allies' pain. We lost the ability to bear children easily. It sounds small, but for us, it was almost too heavy to bear. Once, we had children – not many. We counted a mother lucky if she had two children, and blessed if she had more. Then, a mother was blessed if she and her child survived the birth, and it grew harder every year. Fairin was the last," Kire whispered. "And now we've lost her once more." She fell silent. In the firelight, her tears glittered in Lady Anidd's hair.

"My lady," said Thor. "I believe what you say, and I grieve with you – but how can we help? What can swords and shields do against such hateful sorcery?"

"Do you know how the war wheels are powered?" asked Lady Anidd. She and Kire ignored his question. Her tone was conversational. "The construction is easy. Many have tried to build them in the years since they rampaged through the realms, but they always failed because they didn't get the power source right. Two souls, bound forever, suffering– that's what powers the wheel. That's how we defeated them. We killed those who were being used to fuel the wheels. We carved their hearts out of their chests and burned the bodies."

Thor forced himself to keep staring at Lady Anidd. "Loki's pain is no secret," he said softly. "I have tried and failed to draw him out of it. It seems he loves suffering. You tell me that this Rhurd –" he spat out the name, now choked by fury rather than magic – "will use my brother's pain to release this dread horror upon the worlds?"

"Yes," said Kire. "But Rhurd needs Fairin's as well. It plots to destroy Asgard and Arnheim, and then to use the wheels on the rest of the realms. And Loki is the key to unlocking Fairin's suffering. Once that is done, the two will be bound, and the wheel will awaken."

Thor didn't want to ask the question. His heart pounded in his chest, its beat so fast he thought it would burst his ribs. He thought of Loki's heart, broken and maddened, full of enough rage and hate to make dreams of blood seem like paradise in comparison.

Would he have to carve out his brother's heart, to prevent those horrors from being released into the realms?

He could not do it. He would not ask the question, for fear of the answer and what it would demand of him.

"You want to know what Loki's part is in Fairin's destruction, Thor," said Kire. It was not a question. He closed his eyes.

_Brother, I swear to you, I will not kill you. No matter the cost – to me, to Asgard, to all the realms – I will not destroy you. You are my brother in all but blood. I swear to save you._

Oath sworn, Thor opened his eyes and nodded.

Kire's gaze moved to the robed figure. "Halas," she said. "Reveal yourself."

The figure hesitated, then pulled off its gloves one by one. With shaking hands, it lifted the cowl that hid its face. Thor tensed, ready for –

The man who looked back at him had dark red hair, held back from a high forehead with a simple brown band. His eyes were a dark, bottle-green under dark brows, and red-rimmed with grief. His face –

His face was Loki's.

"Behold Fairin's doom," he said, and his voice was Loki's – a younger Loki's, heavy with despair but empty of madness. "I am Halas, and Rhurd has found a way to use me to destroy what I love best."


	7. Chapter 7: Stains

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

Loki laughed. Fairin recoiled from the sound.

"You say you are of Arnheim. Do you think you can hide the truth of your parentage from me? You're nothing but a mongrel. If you didn't stink of mortality, your eyes would give you away."

What little color remained in Fairin's face faded. Loki took a step closer.

"You're _human,_" he spat at her. "A grasping, frail, filthy little human. Nothing more. You claim Arnheim heritage, but your own body betrays you." He took a moment to appreciate the effect his words had upon her. She trembled and would not meet his gaze. He allowed himself a brief, satisfied smile, and pressed his advantage.

"Grey eyes, not green or blue – that was the first clue. Then there's the matter of your scars – when we both know no one from Arnheim has ever borne a scar. And let's consider that you are a prisoner, when I can't recall a single instance, in any history, when there's been a successful capture of an Arnheim warrior. They kill themselves if they know it's a losing battle. But you – you're a prisoner, so you didn't even have the heart for an honorable death.

"You're nothing more than a coward, like all the rest of your kind. I cringe to imagine your parents! Your father was a gutless fool and your mother was an infamous who—"

"Stop!" Fairin yelled. She kept her head bowed. Her hands were fisted at her sides."You don't know what you're talking about, you idiot."

"Oh, I think I do. I think your mother regretted you from the moment she knew she was carrying you. I think she would have left you out in the cold to die if she had known what a whimpering little milksop she was giving birth to –"

The blast caught him in the stomach and flung him across the room. He hit the wall and slid to the floor, his breath wiped from his lungs. He lay still, trying to clear his vision and catch his breath – trying to piece together what had just happened.

_Get up_, he told himself. _You're vulnerable!_

With an effort, he pulled himself into a crouch, one hand out-flung, and gathered a flare of power into his palm. He let the power flow out of his hand, spiraling out into a thin, translucent shield, just in time to catch the next blast. His shield took the full impact but a jolt traveled up Loki's arm and chattered his teeth.

When his vision cleared, he saw Fairin's distorted figure through the shield. Her hands were spread open at her sides, and twin pools of blood-red and silver curled in her palms. She tossed her head back, exhaling slowly, and clasped her hands together. When she opened her hands, the magic was gone, but its scent lingered in the air: cinnamon, earth, and sweet moss. Her pale, too-bright eye fell on his face and lingered there.

"You were right about one thing, Loki," she said. "My father was a gutless fool. My mother made the mistake of lying with him, and she walked away with me. But she was no whore, and she loves me. _She _is of Arnheim, and that's the heritage I claim." Fairin raised a hand in front of her face and crooked the fingers at him. "I may not look like one, but my power proves I am of Arnheim. As for being left out in the cold – aren't you the expert?"

Did everyone know the horror of his true parentage? Was there no soul left unaware that not only was he a Frost Giant, but his life was saved by a victor's act of pity?

His shield broke apart in a shower of sparks. Fairin's power flared out to block the corrosive shards of Loki's spell, but Loki's best battle moves were always deception and speed. He slammed through her shield and lifted her off her feet, his hand on her jaw, choking off her words, before she had time to gather a new defense.

"My family lied to me," he hissed into her face. The stink around her was almost overpowering up close but his fury made it easy to ignore. "They knew what I was and they lied. They pretended to love me, but I was nothing more than a tool for bargaining."

"Is it so horrible to be a tool, if you bring about peace?" Fairin choked out.

"I was being _used!"_ he shouted, and threw her to the ground. She cried out as she hit the stones and it was only with a heroic effort that Loki kept from striking her again. She rolled on to her back, hands splayed on her chest. He stood over her and let his power fill the air between them, ready to block another blow if she attacked again. The remnants of her magic skittered over him. It bit into his flesh, like an insect stinging him again and again. The sensation was maddening enough to end his self-control. He bared his teeth, his rage flowing out of him, through his hands and into the green-blue fog between them. His magic slid across her exposed skin, a green-black stain that ate into her veins and burned her like acid.

How did he know that it burned?

He burned with it, ever since he had fallen into the abyss. It was endless, a dark pool in which he floundered, and now it was draining into her.

"I was only ever a means to an end," he panted. "Odin would have used me to buy a permanent peace with Jutonheim. I refused to be his instrument."

He poured the stain into her, emptying himself of the rage that had driven him since the fight on Jutonheim. Where his magic burned her, her skin turned grey and bloodless. She cried out, once, and fell still, the only sound her labored breathing.

"Well done, Liesmith."

Rhurd's voice cut across Loki's concentration. His hands clenched, ending the stain's flow into Fairin's body. He lifted the fog and saw, for the first time, how the stain colored the veins on her shoulders and arms. The madness was within her now. Not all of it - that would have been too much to ask, but where once he had been heavy with hate, he felt a clarity he believed he'd lost.

On the floor, Fairin gasped for air. Rhurd stepped delicately over her splayed legs and knelt beside her, its hand tracing the blackened veins just under her skin. She cringed away from its touch, loathing and fear at war in her gaze. Rhurd smiled down at her and traced the line of her jaw. Fairin jerked her chin away, but Rhurd twisted her face back to meet its gaze, its nails cutting into her cheeks.

"You've managed to accomplish so much already," said Rhurd. It turned its smile on Loki. "We've worked on her for weeks, my little assistants and I, and she hasn't given up a single secret, nor a single word."

"What secrets can a mortal have?"

Rhurd laughed, a wind-chime sound that made Fairin stiffen. "Oh, very many. For instance - did you know the particular effect that the blood of one born of Arnheim and Midgard will have?"

Loki hated to show ignorance, but he grudgingly shook his head.

"It invokes mortality," said Rhurd. "Temporarily, but a single drop of this creature's blood, in your body - suffice to say, you would need to be very careful for a day or two. A bad fall, an illness…" Its voice trailed off significantly. Loki felt a tremor of doubt, stronger than before, and tried to ignore it. Fairin closed her good eye. In the fading light of the wisp, she looked ancient. Rhurd stood.

"But mortality is not enough - I have seen the warriors of Arnheim and Asgard. Even as mortals, their numbers pose a serious threat to our plans. I will not risk our machine on anything less than assured victory." It stared down at Fairin, a joyless, hungry smile playing on its mouth.

"You have a solution," said Loki. Rhurd nodded.

"You've just provided it, Liesmith. The - _effect - _ you've had on our guest? Your pain is enough to drive lesser souls mad. Think of what it will do when combined with mortality! Weakened and insane, the forces of Arnheim and Asgard cannot hope to stand against us! Your magic broke through her defenses when we could not - you introduced your rage into her body, and there it has found fertile ground! Look, see how it spreads through her flesh."

Loki did not want to look. Once awakened, his doubt could not be forced away easily.

"Look!" Rhurd commanded, its voice suddenly shrill. His eyes flicked to Rhurd's face unwillingly, then down to Fairin.

The black stain was spreading, creeping through Fairin's veins into her hands and neck. The progress was slow but unmistakable.

"Soon," Rhurd said, "once it has a chance to take root and flourish, she will be prepared. We will drain every drop of blood from her body and we shall pour out your malice and will to destroy upon all the realms. Can you see it, Liesmith? The worlds will burn and she is the fuel for our flame!"

Its voice was a grotesque parody of passion. _This is its dream_, thought Loki. _Not to dominate, but to destroy. There will be nothing left to rule when it is done._ _I have allied myself with one who cannot bring me my throne, nor revenge upon those who took it from me. It will burn the realms and I will be king of nothing but ash. _

"I can sense your doubts." Rhurd watched him, the same hungry smile still on its face. Loki wanted it directed anywhere but at him, but he faced it as best he could, and hoped he would not falter. "You do not believe I can carry out what I claim."

In truth, Loki did not doubt that Rhurd could achieve its goals - but he was in no position to question the sudden return of his mental privacy. He shrugged as indifferently as he could manage, his court face a cold mask over his features.

"The realms will fight back," he replied. "Where there is defiance, there is always a chance of failure. Do not let your ambition overtake your sense."

Rhurd hissed. "You attack my ambition? You only wanted to be a king! You stole a throne from your brother -" Rhurd stopped, its smile widening to show all its teeth. It tapped a bone-thin finger on its cheek, musing in silence.

"You require…a demonstration of what I claim to be able to achieve?"

Loki paused, then nodded. Dread knotted in his gut.

"You shall have it," said Rhurd. Its tone was almost merry. "When our creature is ready, we shall give her blood a test run, as the Midgardians put it. I know the perfect candidates."

The knot came undone and fear, not dread, unspooled within him. He knew what Rhurd would say an instant before the words floated through the air, but they fell on his ears like hammer blows.

"We'll test it on your brother and all his friends. They'll die tasting her bitter blood. That should allay any doubt that remains, Liesmith."

Loki swallowed as best he could with a throat gone dry.

_Thor, my brother! _he thought before he could stop himself.

Fairin opened her good eye. It was the eye of a fish pulled from deep water, the eye of a doe running from a wolf. The eye of one already dead, but still breathing.


	8. Chapter 8: Ways and Means

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

It took some time to recover from seeing Halas. That face - Loki's face - had struck him like a burst of flame, and Thor had to force himself to hold Halas' gaze as he was torn between longing and hate.

_Loki!_

After that, all secrets were revealed: the power of Fairin's mortal blood (and how that chilled him!), what the Arnians knew of Rhurd's plots, and how they planned to rescue Fairin and Loki. Thor listened, unmoving, until Lady Anidd had explained everything, then he left the chamber without a word. Sif shouted for him, and Hogun made to follow, but Kire held them back with a look. Thor wandered through the halls of the palace, unhearing, unseeing, with only dread in his heart.

He wasn't sure how he made it back to his rooms, but when he arrived, some over-eager servant had cleared away the remnants of Thor's drunkenness and replaced the emptied mead flagons with fresh ones. There was even a hogshead of wine tucked beneath a table. He could drown himself in drink and forget everything he knew about war wheels and mortal blood, but Loki's face would not leave his mind. Halas' final words still rang in his ears.

"I know my form and my face repel you," he'd said, "but I need all of you to understand. Fairin is -" He paused, throat working, but his voice was gone. Kire put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Some strength flowed from her into him through the contact; when he found his voice, it was clearer.

"Fairin is ignorant of many things. It's not her fault - she was raised by her father's family, on Midgard, and they detested what they saw as aberrations. They kept her from learning her true abilities. Now she knows what her blood is worth, and so does Rhurd."

Her blood was one of the most fearsome substances in all the realms. It would burn through all the branches of Yggdrasil and leave nothing behind. That was Rhurd's only desire. To stop it, Fairin needed to die.

Thor knew he could kill Fairin without a qualm, without a worry about what it would do to the alliance between Asgard and Arnheim, but he would not kill Loki. He refused to believe that both Loki and Fairin had to die to stop the wheels. There was a way to keep Loki alive, even if the only way was to pull Fairin's heart from her body - and Thor would do what needed to be done.

This was the last promise he could make to his brother. Whatever else lay between them, there was still love, even if it was only Thor's. He would make this last promise count for everything: for the years of telling Loki to know his place, when it was only ever by Thor's side; for the pride that kept them separate; for his satisfaction in being Odin's favorite.

He would save his brother.

The mead poured like oil and tasted like a meadow. He drained three goblets in succession and felt the warm glow hit his stomach as he poured a fourth. His recent experience with intoxication seemed to have left him extremely susceptible to the effects of alcohol; before it had taken him hours to feel any effects, but already he felt a pleasant haze.

It took him a moment to realize that the mead was not at work. He cursed himself; how could he mistake the sensation of magic, after so many years feeling and tasting Loki's?

"You followed me," he growled, with a glare over his shoulder. Behind him, Halas shut the door and nodded.

"Forgive my intrusion, and my use of magic - after my reception, I wanted to be sure I would not be in danger." Halas waved a hand - Thor noticed his gloves were back on - and the pleasant fuzziness faded away. Thor met his eyes with an effort.

"You know it's an insult to fog my brain with your magic?"

"An insult, yes, but as I'd last maybe a minute in battle with you, I decided to risk the insult." Halas smiled, and Thor felt his heart clench. The resemblance to Loki wasn't perfect - he could see that now - but it was close enough to sting.

"A minute? At most, thirty seconds." Halas' smile grew.

"You're probably right. I overestimate myself."

"So why are you here? Why have you risked your safety? Come to beg me to rescue your lover?"

The smile slipped away and Halas' features hardened. Now the resemblance was perfect - except for his hair and eyes, Halas could have passed for Loki.

"She's not my lover," he said stiffly, but a quirk of his lips belied him.

"No, but you love her," guessed Thor, and was rewarded when Halas' mouth compressed into a thin line. The muscles of his jaw were taut under his skin.

"Yes. I love her." Halas sighed. "Fairin doesn't know. I was the one sent to bring her back from Midgard, after her father's family abandoned her." Halas ran his gloved hands over his hair. "I came to tell you something that Lady Anidd didn't - how Fairin was born. I'm not even sure she knows. The Queen confided in me before we left. Kire and Tasla - Lady Anidd - didn't want me to go. They said my personal feelings would interfere with my duties." Halas sighed harshly. "Rhurd knows about me and how I feel about Fairin. Its discovery of Loki, of our resemblance - that was a stroke of luck it did not expect. Fairin trusts me, as she trusts no one else, not even Kire, and to see my face on the agent of her pain…that's how Rhurd plans to break down her defenses. Fairin's shields were created by the Queen of Arnheim. There's no breaking them unless the one protected no longer wants to survive. With Loki's help…" His voice trailed away. Thor waited.

Halas' hands clenched in front of him. When he spoke, he spat the words like they scorched his tongue.

"Fairin was an experiment. We've been searching for a way to have children again for centuries, and the Queen discovered that our salvation lay in protecting _symbolic_ children - the people of Midgard."

Thor's expression went from fragile patience to incredulity to amusement in a heartbeat. Halas shrugged. His face was set in smooth lines - an expression for court, Thor realized. Loki's specialty.

"The Queen has her own logic and motives. I don't question them. All I know is that she made a pact - and Fairin was born to bind the worlds together."

"To bind the worlds together," murmured Thor. "She is a tool for peace?"

Halas paused, clearly unnerved by Thor's steely calm, then nodded. Thor grinned. There was no joy in it, just bared teeth.

"So she and Loki have a great deal in common. They were only allowed to survive because they could be used." Thor threw his goblet to the floor and felt a smug satisfaction when the crash made Halas cringe away.

"You all disgust me!" he thundered. "You, your Queen, my father - why can't you ever stop hoping for peace to be built? It is not something that can be made, but grown! It must be fostered and loved - as Loki and Fairin never were."

"Yes!" Halas cried out, his hands stretched out toward Thor in a plea. "Thor, you can help us set this right. The Queen was wrong, the Allfather was wrong - but you and I, we can save the worlds. Forget peace - I just want to _live._ If the wheels are let loose in the realms, we all die. Loki and Fairin will survive only as long as they're needed, and then Rhurd will pour their blood out to join ours. Do you think Loki won't taste her blood? He'll be mortal as well, without his powers or strength to protect him. We can stop this!"

The gleam in his flat green eyes was too familiar. Thor had to look away.

"Thor!" Halas took a step toward him, but Thor shoved him away and stalked to the window. Beyond the palace walls, the lands of Asgard stretched out before him, gem-like in the fading light. This was his world - a warm world, filled with love and approval. It should have been Loki's world too.

"Asgard is beautiful," said Halas. His voice was deliberately light. "I longed to see its golden halls when I was a little boy. You know, four thousand years ago."

Thor looked at him over his shoulder. "You're older than you look" he said, unable to hide his surprise. Halas nodded.

"Old enough to embarrass my parents by not being a husband and father. I should have been married long ago, but nothing - no one ever mattered till I saw Fairin." His face was lit from within by a glow that Thor never expected to see on Loki's face. "I had my work, and I was happy. Then the Queen sent me to bring Fairin home and introduce her to her real people. When she came through the door, I was lost. She smelled like moss and ferns after the rains." Halas looked at Thor, a sly smile on his face that cut too close and made Thor's breath hitch. "Is there anyone like that for you?"

"Jane," said Thor. He hadn't let himself think about her in days. _Jane is safe, Jane is happy._ "She is on Midgard. A scientist."

"Beautiful?"

"Very." Thor turned his back on the view of Asgard. "It is quite strange to discuss such things with a man who wears my brother's face."

Halas watched his face, something like pity crossing it, then nodded. "Of course it is, forgive me." Now he crossed to the window, hands parting the curtains and his gaze moving over the towers. "When Fairin saw the Six Hundred Towers of the Queen's palace," he said, so softly Thor strained to hear him, "she cried. She couldn't believe it was her home. She would love it here."

"Loki did love it here," said Thor. Halas straightened his back.

"Will you help us, Thor? Without you, I fear they are both doomed, and we with them." Halas smoothed his robes, a nervous gesture Thor was sure the man no longer noticed. "If I'm going to die," Halas said conversationally, "I want to die having at least kissed her."

Thor laughed, against his will. "She must be extraordinary."

"Oh yes," said Halas. "She is."

Thor laughed once more, and this time the sound was genuine. "You are a man besotted," he said, "but I like your honesty. For my brother, I will fight beside you."

Halas' smile was blinding.

* * *

"So," said Sif. "We're about to go into the heart of Henusgard, against who knows how many enemies, to save your brother - a traitor, an usurper, and a murderer - and a woman whose blood can make us mortal. And, just in case we started feeling confident, we have to destroy the only person in thousands of years who's been able to create a war wheel. Does that cover everything?"

"Yes," replied Thor. He took Sif by the shoulder and met her eyes. "I will not blame you if you choose to stay behind, my friend."

Sif shrugged off his hand. "I'm going, Thor. I just wanted to make sure I had everything straight. Have you seen my daggers?"

"I like her," said Kire. She watched Sif walk away with a smile. "I _really_ like her. She has heart enough for five warriors."

"Wait till you see her in battle," said Thor. "You'll know then that she has heart enough for ten warriors." He felt light and clean; he had slept soundly, dreaming of his childhood, and he had devoured a dozen eggs and two loaves of bread before the sun had risen. By the time everyone had gathered in the waiting room, some still yawning and bleary-eyed from sleep, he was in full armor and ready to leave.

After his talk with Halas ended, they had returned to the rest and spent half the night planning. They would travel the same road the Arnheim party traveled to get to Asgard - one of the secret routes Loki had rediscovered as a boy - and then follow one of the forking paths to Rhurd's domain in Henusgard.

From there, they would have to fight their way in.

"Rhurd's domain will not be easily breached," said Kire. "And it's sure to know that we're coming. Our only hope is to time our entrance for when Rhurd is distracted by its work."

"How will we know it's distracted?" Like all the Asgardians but Thor, Fandral avoided using Rhurd's name with an almost superstitious focus.

"If we get in and don't lose anyone," said Hogun. Lady Anidd sniffed.

"You are cheerful, aren't you? We'll know because testing the wheels will momentarily drain all Rhurd's power from the shields surrounding its fortress. We'll have two minutes to get inside." She rubbed her eyes. "I don't want to think about how many warriors I sent to their deaths just to get that information."

"They knew what they were doing," said Halas. "Don't blame yourself, Lady Anidd." He stood apart from the others, turning a silver goblet ceaselessly in his hands. The Warriors Three and Sif still avoided his gaze, and Thor felt a wave of pity for Halas. Thor's friends couldn't help their reactions, but Halas looked so alone - so much like Loki - that it was all Thor could do not to rise and embrace him. He knew the impulse was a way to diffuse his guilt over his treatment of Loki. By embracing Halas as he should have embraced Loki, he would be seeking absolution. He'd be a fool if he believed he could get it with his brother's double.

He raised his eyes from the table, which was littered with old blades and unwanted bits of armor, to look out the window. The sun was full in the sky. He felt the warmth on his face, turning his skin to gold and his eyes to sapphire. He drank in the light, pushing it through his sinews to the very borders of his body. His blood seemed molten, carrying a promise of new power and love redeemed. He felt Kire's eyes upon him and looked down. Everyone was watching him.

Kire smiled. "Are you ready?" she asked, and even though the Warriors Three and Sif murmured their assent, it was Thor for whom the question was meant. He nodded.

"Then let's begin." She drew a sigil in the air with the third finger of each hand, a gesture that stirred the air into a haze of shimmering particles. The way was opening.

"Is there time for just another bite of cheese?" asked Volstagg, just as a wind blew out of the way and carried them away.


	9. Chapter 9: Truth in the Darkness

**TRIGGER WARNING: Instances of physical assault and self-harm. **

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

When Rhurd ordered him away, wanting time alone to observe what it gleefully called "Fairin's progress", Loki let the repellant little Drot lead him back to his chamber. There was food and drink awaiting his arrival, and the couch was crowded with velvet cushions that beckoned to his weary bones, but he ignored it all to pace the room. Twelve paces to a side, his steps counting the rhythm of his growing discomfort.

No, not discomfort - guilt. It was a different disease than the one that had tainted him for so long and blinded him to regret and hindsight. In forcing his madness into her, he had regained his clarity and now he ached with remorse. He was a murderer and a traitor. In trying to prove his worth, he had only succeeded in proving his father's worst fears right. He was no more than a monster, sodden with innocent blood.

_I thought I had no room for guilt, and I was right._

_Now I must feel it all._

When he paid attention, he felt the slow draining sensation that only meant one thing: somehow the process had not ended when he stopped the flow of hate between himself and Fairin. It was still happening. In her dank little cell, she was still absorbing every atom of his madness.

Pity was not new to Loki. He'd felt it before the battle on Jotunheim, as he'd felt many things: love, loyalty, delight, generosity. Those warmer feelings had been crowded out by the truth of his birth. As his skin froze, so did his heart. It was fixed at the moment of his greatest sorrow - or so he'd thought.

As his madness whispered away, his capacity for sorrow grew. The lives he'd ended pulled at his limbs with phantom hands. He was heavy, so heavy with grief. He pulled off his cape, his armor, and his helmet, leaving himself in only his leather breeches and vest, and still the weight upon him grew.

Loki collapsed on to the couch, hoping for some respite in sleep from the guilt coiling in his body, but sleep never came. He reached out blindly to the table beside him, and drank wine and ate food he did not taste. He would have cried if he thought it would bring him any relief.

It was a more poetic punishment than even the Allfather could concoct: at the verge of his greatest triumph, Loki would not want it at all. The nectar he longed for, to cool the reckless hate in his heart, had turned to poison on his lips.

Thor had understood. That oafish, lion-haired, laughing fool of an older brother - the loud one, the slow-witted one, the one who never lifted a book except to get it out of his way - he had understood where Loki did not that Loki's dream of conquest was poison. It always had been. Thor saw and lived simple truths. When he asked Loki to come home, that was all he wanted: his brother at his side once more. Loki had laughed at the request, called it sentiment and sent Thor away bleeding, but that was the harshest regret of all - to know that Thor had meant everything he said, that Thor had grown and changed when he, Loki, was stuck in one moment forever. He truly was of Jotunheim: ice and chill winds and a heart blackened with hate.

The truth was bitter, as truths often are when realized too late.

Loki closed his eyes and gave himself up to despair. It felt like falling.

* * *

Two days passed before Loki went back to Fairin's cell.

She was hunched in a corner, hands at her throat, panting with some monstrous effort. He covered the space between them in two steps and knelt beside her. She shifted away, her breathing coming in broken gasps, and he saw that she was clawing at her neck. Her fingers had raised welts on her skin, but she did not bleed.

"I can't get it out of me, Halas," she whispered. She was close to weeping. "It's stuck, I can't get it out."

Loki reached out to grab her hands. She twisted away, forcing herself back against the wall, still clawing at her skin.

"Halas, I can't get out," she moaned. "Halas, I -"

She saw him, really saw him, and the sound that left her mouth tore at Loki's heart.

"You're not Halas," she whispered. "Oh,_ gods_."

She shrieked when his hands brushed her skin and threw herself away.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. The revulsion in her voice was undisguised. He pulled his hands back and cradled them against his chest. She looked at him through the matted tangles of her hair. The swelling around her right eye was gone and she looked at him with two storm-grey eyes searing with hate.

"You did this to me, you monster! It's all yours, it's not mine, I don't want this!" Her hands carved furrows in her cheeks that reddened but did not bleed. Loki saw how the stain had made its way through her body since he had forced his madness into her. The surface of her skin was patterned with black filigree that looked like nothing so much as cracks in fine porcelain. Only her face and hands were still free of the contagion. He felt ill with doubt and guilt.

_The result of trading madness for reason_, he thought_. I now carry the shame of everything I've done, and she holds the sum total of all my pain in her body._

Fairin grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and pulled. There was a horrible sound, like fabric tearing, as she ripped the hair free. Two wounds opened on her temples, but did not bleed. "I can't get it out," she moaned. "I can't get out I can't get it out oh gods it hurts _it hurrrrrrrrrrrrrts_."

"Fairin," he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. Her eyes rolled in her head, completely vacant, and she slapped herself hard across the face. He caught her hands up in his and sucked a breath through his teeth as a cold jolt ran through him at the contact.

* * *

_Fairin stands on a porch. She is young and the scars at her mouth and eye are fresh and bright red against her skin. She is dressed in ill-fitting blue trousers and a stained blouse, her hair is plaited in two braids. She smiles uncertainly down at a man who is covered head to foot in a black robe. He is surrounded by a nimbus of green light, streaked with silver._

_"The Queen of Arnheim has sent me to bring you home," says the robed man. His voice is distorted by the energy surrounding him. "It's time you met your people."_

_Fairin's smile slips away. "The Queen wants nothing to do with me," she says in a dull voice, like she's been trained to repeat this word for word. "My father says -"_

_"Your father beats you when you ask about your Arnheim heritage," says the man. His voice is gentle but firm. When Fairin flinches, he pauses, but goes on. "Why would you believe such a man, especially when you know he's stolen your memories of who you are? You were born with them. They are part of you and he had no right to take them. Come with me, and your memories will be returned to you."_

_Fairin tries and fails to look uninterested. "What's your name?" she asks, to buy herself time. She tries to peer under the man's hood but he keeps his face lowered to the ground._

_"My name is Halas. I'm one of the Queen's advisors," says the man. "She wants you to come home, Fairin." She snorts._

_"My whole life, the Queen's never been interested in me. Why now? Why didn't she send you before?" The hurt in Fairin's voice is clear._

_The man named Halas shifts before answering. "You were hidden from our sight until you used your powers. When you…"_

_"When I nearly flooded the valley because I wanted it to rain. Right. A lot of people noticed that. Like my father." She crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm sure you know what he did then." She waves a hand at her face._

_Halas nods. He still has not shown his face. "It's normal for that to happen when you work your first spell. You didn't know your own strength. I can – we can show you how to control your powers. Fairin, there are worlds out there you can't imagine. Entire forests of moving trees, planets that are nothing but singing oceans – that's your world, not here." Her eyes glow like polished steel as he speaks._

_"So you want me to go with you?" She looks around the yard, at the house, at the sky. "Seek out new life and new civilizations?" Her smile blossoms, shy and delighted and achingly earnest. She needs this to be true. "I'm ready to get out of here," she says. "I feel like I've been waiting for this moment my whole life. But I have to know, are you - you're not playing a trick on me, are you?" Her hands twist at her waist. "I couldn't bear that."_

_A tiny sound leaves Halas' throat. Fairin doesn't hear it._

_"FAIRIN!" booms a voice from the house behind her. Fairin flinches. "Get your ass back inside, you little shit." The voice is roughened with hard use._

_"Come with me," says Halas. "And you'll never hear him again. It's time to come home." He holds out a hand, fine-boned and long-fingered. He lifts his head and Fairin, seeing his face for the first time, inhales sharply._

_"Your eyes…" she says, "I've never seen anything like them."_

_"FAIRIN!"_

_"Please, Fairin," says Halas hurriedly. "I promise you, I will keep you safe from him. Your father won't be able to hurt you again. He can't keep your memories from you. Come with me and I'll show you everything." His voice is pleading._

_Fairin spares a last glance back at the house. Footsteps, heavy, clumsy footsteps, are coming toward the front door. She hesitates, held in place by her fear of whoever approaches, and is still standing on the porch when the door flies open. The man who comes out of the house has the same color hair, but his resemblance to Fairin goes no further. He has the look of a soldier run to fat. A blow from his arm sends Fairin to her knees._

_"Get in the house," her father says in a deadly calm voice. "We're going to talk about this. And you," he looks at Halas, "get the hell away from her. She's no business of yours."_

_"Actually," says Halas, and it's obvious he's been waiting for this chance, "she is." He holds up a hand, the fingertips sparking emerald-green and silver, and with a negligent flick of his wrist, sends the man flying backward. Her father crashes into the doorframe, knocking his head on the wood, and collapses half-in, half-out of the house. He doesn't move. Fairin watches in dull surprise, her hand cradling her cheek. Halas takes the steps two at a time and crouches beside her. He runs his still-glowing fingers over her cheek, erasing the already-forming bruise, and brushes her hair back over her ear._

_"You can do that?" she breathes._

_"I can," says Halas. "Will you come with me?"_

_Fairin takes a deep breath and shudders as she looks at the still figure of her father. When she looks back at Halas, something has changed in her face. She is still young, but she is harder now. Fiercer. For the first time, the Arnheim part of her shows through. "Yes," she said, "yes, I'll come with you."_

_Halas' face is still hidden, but somehow it's clear he's smiling. He draws Fairin to her feet, an arm around her waist, and grasps her wrist with his free hand. "We'll do it together," he says, and with a roar, they disappear in a flare of green and scarlet light._

* * *

Loki dropped her hands.

"What – what was that?" Loki gasped. Where her skin touched his, his Jotnar self has appeared: scarred cobalt flesh, as chill and hard as marble. It was strange how returning to his true self always felt like putting on a disguise. He focused, imagining what to him is still his natural form: smooth white skin, green eyes, warm flesh. Fairin was very still, watching in fascination as Loki's glamour falls back into place. He gave himself a little shake to speed the process. Her eyes were too hungry, too bold.

"Did I see something true, Fairin? When I touched you?" She blinked and looked at her hands.

"Halas," she said finally. "Halas saved me. He brought me home. But I can't – I can't see his face anymore." Her eyes met Loki's, storm grey to Aesir green. "You stole his face!" she cried. "Give it back!" Her hand hooked out, her nails scratched his face. He froze, stunned, as warm blood trickled over his skin, staring at Fairin with uncomprehending eyes, and she swiped at him again, panting.

"He's not yours!" she hissed, and bared her teeth. Her madness – his madness – jerked him out of his paralysis. He threw himself to the side as she scrabbled toward him. "Give him back!" she screamed. "Give him back to me!"

His power rose within him and burst from his hand without needing to be commanded. The green burst caught Fairin on the shoulder and knocked her back against the far wall. She reeled drunkenly, trying to get to her knees, then collapsed in a heap, moaning into her hands.

Loki watched the residue of his magic dissipate into the clammy air. _Green_, he realized with amazement. _It was green, just green. No black, no blue – just green. Just mine. There's no hate within it._

"You're almost ready," he said. His throat clicked as he spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice calm and serene. It took him a moment to hear the resignation in her words. She sat up, one hand cradling her shoulder. The stains were written on almost all her skin, but her eyes, when they met his, were lucid. For the moment.

"I don't have much time," she said. "Rhurd will be here soon, and then – then I won't be able to fight it off any longer. I'm good for maybe a hundred words, so come closer." When Loki hesitated, she smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said, echoing his promise to her from a few days ago. "I may have two hundred words if I can whisper."

He reluctantly went to her side. She grasped his hand and the chill went through him again as his Aesir form melted away, but now there was a tug, a pull toward her he could not explain. He pushed away his Jotun self, buried it deep down, and held it there, even as Fairin's magic tried to call it forth.

"It's not just your hate I've been given," she said. "I've seen your fears, Loki, and I've seen –" she broke off, her grip on his hand tightening. She seemed to be forcing something down, something that pained her, and when she looked at him again, the inky stains under her skin had advanced. They touched her mouth, covered her palms. She shuddered with the effort of trying to keep control, and tried again. "I've seen your fears, and I know you fear for what will happen to Thor if – when this" - she waved at her face – "is ready. In spite of everything you two have done to each other, he still loves you. Do you love him? Don't! Don't argue with me," she gasped when he opened his mouth. "There's no time for denial. Do you love him?"

That was the question, wasn't it? At every step on this journey, he'd been confronted with some variation of it. His love for Thor was his stumbling block. It made him weak, it made him insane with longing.

Did he still love Thor?

_You give up this poisonous dream, and you come home._

_Is it too late to say yes, brother?_

"Yes," said Loki. "I still love Thor."

Fairin smiled, the first real smile he'd seen, and despite the stains creeping through her flesh, Loki felt the pull toward her again, sweetened by the scent of ferns and rain.

"Then kill me," she said.


	10. Chapter 10: Silencing Hope

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

"Kill me," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and over-bright. "Kill me and save him. If you kill me now, your madness dies with me. Do it!" She squeezed his hand as he tried to pull away.

"I can't," he said. "I can't kill again – the lives I've destroyed, they weigh on me, Fairin."

Her gaze sharpened. "It's your responsibility to carry the weight of the lives you ended. But this isn't killing – this is release. I can't live, not with this in me – it's burning me up, Loki, and it's yours, not mine. This madness made you kill, and it will make me kill your brother." He looked away, unable to meet her eyes any longer. "Please!" she said, and began to cry. "I can't do it myself. I've been trying and it doesn't work." He felt her tears falling on their linked hands.

"No one wanted me either, Loki. My father – no, listen to me!" She chafed his fingers between her hands. "These scars? My father gave them to me. Our fathers are liars and thieves, but your brother – he's not part of that. Don't make me kill him when all he wants to do is bring you home." She groaned and clutched at her stomach. The stains still advanced; her hands were covered and only her cheeks and forehead were clear.

"The machine won't work with just one of us," she said. "Kill me. Then you and Thor can save each other."

Loki paused, still unsure, even with his freedom from his madness, if he could let go of his lust for vengeance, for the machine – and as he paused, the wall of the cell whispered open to Rhurd's laughter.

Fairin wailed, "Now, do it now!" but before Loki could move, Rhurd took a step into the room and backhanded him across the face. He fell without a sound, shocked less by the pain than he was by the horror that he'd waited too long.

Fairin crawled to his side and pulled him to his feet. She shook with the effort of holding on to the last of her lucidity.

"It was a good attempt, girl," it said. "But doomed to fail. Our Liesmith loves his machine more than that fool of an Aesir. He was never going to kill you."

"It doesn't matter," said Fairin. She struggled for bravery and managed a good imitation, but Loki felt her rising panic like it was his own. "I can fight this a little longer. Kire is coming."

"Ah, yes, the infamous Kire. Tell me, does she still consort with that notorious whore, Lady Anidd?" Rhurd jeered, but Fairin's only reaction was to steady herself with a hand against the wall. Rhurd folded its hands on its chest and smiled at her – its hungry smile, Loki realized.

"And what about Halas? Will he be coming to rescue you?" Rhurd's tone was sweet but there was no mistaking the way Fairin's back stiffened. "I am _so eager _to make his acquaintance."

Loki felt more than saw the impact of Rhurd's words on Fairin. With that strange internal tug, he felt her shoulders hunch and her eyes close as if they were his own.

And then he felt her gather her magic - the silent call she sent through her body and the answering cry as her power responded. When she moved, it was with unexpected efficiency. She shoved away from the wall, legs bending to take the force of the blast that rushed out of her. A blood-crimson beam leapt from her right hand with enough momentum to push her back against the wall. As soon as the first blast was free she twisted her left arm forward to loose another beam, braced against the wall for support. Rhurd caught the blasts in the chest and collapsed to its knees. The smell of cinnamon was overpowering.

Panting, Fairin brought her hands together, ready to unleash the killing blast, but what left her fingers was a cracked and ruined flow – the color of blackened blood. It was reluctant to leave her body and wisps of power clung to her fingers before crumbling into dust. She froze, staring at her hands in stark horror, and in the dim light Loki saw the stains now covered every inch of her skin.

Rhurd staggered to its feet. Its robe had been torn away by the force of Fairin's magic, and underneath was a nightmare's body. Its skin was gone, leaving only a burnt skeleton, filled with feebly moving shadows.

Fairin dropped her hands to her sides. She raised her chin, her eyes fixed on Rhurd. She'd given up, Loki realized. Too much abuse, too much terror, and Fairin was finished with all of it. If she'd had the ability, she would have willed herself to die long before now - but she couldn't. She made Loki think of a stag he and Thor had once hunted. The beast was glorious, with a white pelt and twelve-pronged antlers, and Thor dragged Loki after it for a day and a night. Finally, exhausted and limping, the stag turned and fought. It gored Thor twice before his dagger brought it down. Its death was swift and as painless as Thor could make it, but Loki never forgot its eyes as Thor pulled it to the ground.

Rhurd rushed at Fairin. She had time to throw her hands in front of her face before Rhurd hit her and drove her to the ground. Loki heard a crack and felt the answering ache in his own chest. He didn't move as Rhurd, its hands on either side of Fairin's face, slammed her head into the floor once, then again.

She didn't die. She just suffered, her body jerking in spasms as vital connections broke and black blood bubbled out of her nose. When she was still, Rhurd got to its feet. It toed her in the side and its foot came away dark with blood. It giggled.

"Make sure you don't get any on you," it said. Loki fought down a wave of revulsion while he screamed silently at himself.

_Why didn't you help her? Craven fool!_

"I see she is ready," Rhurd went on, either unaware of or uncaring about Loki's stricken state. "I am pleased you resisted her request. After all, she was right – we need both of you for the machine. We do not, however, need her aware."

Loki shuddered, unable to stop himself. The lascivious pleasure in Rhurd's voice repelled him. "Let her be," he said, and was ashamed of how weak his voice sounded. "She can be of no further use."

"Oh, Liesmith, how wrong you are." From the shreds of its robe, Rhurd withdrew a long-needled syringe. "Pull her upright," it ordered. When Loki didn't move, it showed its teeth. "Pull her up!" it snapped, "or you will be the first to taste her blood."

Every sinew in his body cried out at him to refuse, but self-preservation was always Loki's strongest characteristic. He knelt, slid an arm under Fairin's shoulders, and lifted her as gently as he could. She groaned and opened her eyes.

"Is Kire coming?" she asked, her voice like a little girl's. Loki cringed from the vacancy in her tone and didn't answer. _Craven_, he thought to himself.

"Of course she is," said Rhurd and grabbed a fistful of Fairin's hair. "All of your friends are coming." It yanked her head back sharply, to expose her sluggish pulse. Without any pretense at gentleness, it stabbed the needle into her neck. Loki forced himself to watch.

Fairin gasped, her eyes wide and horribly lucid for a moment, and then a blessed blankness settled over her features. She went limp against Loki's arm; her weight against his arm was heavier than he expected and he almost let her slip to the floor. Rhurd snarled at him, its eyes on the slowly filling syringe. When it pulled out the needle, a small spurt of blood escaped before the wound sealed over.

"There," Rhurd sighed, all satisfaction. It shook the syringe at Loki. "This is for your brother and all his friends," it said gleefully. "You will see, Liesmith, how potent a concoction you two have created. No army can stand against this blood and the war wheels together!"

"War wheels," said Loki. _I am a fool. How did I not know? The engines, the infernal engines, the vast hunger – I claim wisdom but did not see truth._ He expected to feel sick, but all he felt was a growing numbness. _I am the doom of the world._He laid Fairin down gently and stood, not quite trusting his legs. There was a great roaring in his ears.

Would he still have agreed to all this, had his madness not left him? Would his hate have convinced him that the war wheel was the answer to his dark and vicious prayers, the prayers that blistered tongue and lip as he spoke them?

He feared the answer was yes.

_My sight has returned to me only to show me how far I have fallen. I have killed, I have lied, and I have failed those I love. _He looked down at Fairin. He had failed her too.

But not Thor. Not again.

His eyes went to the syringe in Rhurd's hand. The glance gave him away, and even as the spell left his hands, bent on destruction, Rhurd's arm snapped back and caught him across the chest. The blow wasn't meant to be painful so much as distracting, and Loki's concentration broke at the vital moment. He spun around, trying to reclaim the spell, and caught the syringe with a flare as Rhurd was slipping it back into its robes. The syringe slid from its hand, tumbling briefly in the air before shattering against the wall. It was a small victory – what would stop Rhurd from retrieving another? – but Fairin's gentle sigh of relief was enough satisfaction for Loki.

Rhurd snatched the broken syringe from the floor. Too late, Loki realized what was happening and tried to shield himself, but the jagged glass was at Loki's eye and Rhurd's hand was on his throat, holding him fast. If he so much as twitched, he'd be lost.

"I expected this," said Rhurd. Its breath blew out in a choking cloud. "I expected you to feel pity for this creature, once your hate was gone. I _prepared_for it, Liesmith. And now you will do me a service, or you will feel the bite of mortality."

"No," gritted Loki. "I refuse."

"It's such a simple task," said Rhurd, sounding disappointed. "But if you insist on defying me, I don't need you to be immortal to power my wheel, just alive – and even with this blood in you, you could live for many years yet." It cocked its head at Fairin. "Just as she can live without anything going on in her brain." It leaned in close enough for Loki to see the black blood glistening on the broken edge of the glass.

"Do you see that? Your doom, Liesmith. You will serve or you will be condemned."

Self-preservation fought and won a brief war against honor. No, it was more than self-preservation – he was no use to Thor as a mortal. He gave a tiny nod, as much as he could risk without stabbing himself in the eye, and Rhurd released him with a smile. There was a moment when Rhurd paused, considering his face, and he feared Rhurd knew his secret thoughts once more - but then Rhurd smiled, satisfied.

"See? It was not so difficult a choice."

"What must I do?" said Loki. His voice was colorless.

Rhurd opened the hand not holding the broken syringe, and spread its fingers. A metal half-circle hovered just over its palm. Loki knew it at once. His mouth went dry and sour at the sight of it.

"Put this on her," said Rhurd. "I've made some modifications that I think your brother will find very – interesting."

His hands were leaden as he took up the gag. It was heavier than he remembered, and strangely electric to the touch, like it was alive with some fiendish energy.

Thor had cried, actually _cried_, when he fastened it around Loki's jaw. Loki had hated his brother's tears - just another example of why Thor was unfit to rule.

Now he understood why Thor wept. His own tears stung his eyes.

Fairin watched him dully. He should have killed her. It would have been kinder.

He knelt over her, trying to avoid her gaze. She whimpered, her entire body quaking under him, and with the last of her strength pressed her hand against his chest. Her fingers scrabbled against his armor. Her breath came in short gasps. She was terrified, the sick smell of fear rolling off her in waves. Loki thought again of the stag, how it bellowed as Thor brought it down, and how the same smell overpowered the odors of musk, sweat, and blood.

"Please," she breathed. A single tear rolled down into her hair.

"I'm sorry," said Loki. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes widened when she saw what waited for her inside the gag, and opened her mouth to scream. Loki shoved the gag down, muting her, and locked it into place under her hair. Whatever energy vibrated within the metal sparked to life and lit the runes engraved on the surface with rotted luminescence. The effect was immediate: Fairin went stiff, eyes rolling back in her head, and shuddered into stillness. Her eyes stayed open in a face gone slack and grey above the gag. Except for her shallow breathing, she might have been dead.

Loki closed his eyes, his heart beating a thick rhythm in his chest. _For you, Thor, it's for you_, he thought dully. _I have to save you first._

Rhurd clapped its hands. There was no mistaking its glee, or its pleasure in their suffering. "When she rises," it said to Loki. "Bring her to me. Your brother will arrive soon, and she'll greet him with open arms." It laughed as it left the cell.

Loki fell to the floor beside Fairin and knew no more.

When he came back to himself, the door of the cell was open and Fairin was gone. He ran, trying to trace her through the halls, knowing he was already too late.


	11. Chapter 11: Stone Rain

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

The trouble started as soon as they arrived.

Thor didn't expect Henusgard to be so beautiful. The sun bathed every surface in golden light, the trees were heavy with fruit, and before them stretched a meadow of sweet-smelling grass, dotted with purple and yellow flowers. The meadow spilled down a gentle decline into the bowl of a valley, surrounded on all sides by sheer rock walls. If there was a way out, Thor couldn't see one. It wasn't encouraging.

"Did we take a wrong turn and end up in the Summerlands?" asked Fandral. "I may be mistaken, but I recall it looking much like this, the last time we visited."

"This isn't the Summerlands," said Thor. He tightened his grip on Mjolnir and tried to let the thrum of the hammer soothe him. "It's a trick, somehow."

Sif crouched down to stroke a flower with her fingers. "But it's so lovely - oh!" She yanked her hand back, gazing wide-eyed at the flower. "It burned me!" At her side, Fandral was reaching up to pluck a fruit from a low-hanging branch, and she knocked his hand aside. "Don't touch anything! It's some foul sorcery."

Fandral started to protest, then closed his mouth and backed away from the tree.

Kire kicked at a clump of grass and knelt down to examine the soil. She sniffed and recoiled immediately. "Reeks of carrion - it's Rhurd's magic." She looked at the gathered warriors. "Don't touch anything, don't eat anything," she said. "The land may look inviting, but when the shield goes down, we'll see what lies behind these illusions."

Halas' voice came from the back of the group. "We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits: who knows upon what soil they fed their hungry thirsty roots?"

They all looked at Halas, who colored slightly.

"It's from a Midgardian poem. Fairin read it to me." He seemed on the verge of saying something else, then shook his head. Kire and Lady Anidd exchanged a look, and Thor didn't miss the concern in their gazes.

"Well then, let's get going," said Volstagg. "I'd rather meet my doom head-on than stand around waiting for it." Kire flashed him an irritated look that he shrugged off. "Figure of speech, my lady, of course. Our doom is years away."

"We're not going anywhere until the shields are down," said Lady Anidd. "We might as well get some rest. It could be hours before we can make our move."

There was some grumbling at that, and Thor had to push down his annoyance. To go through all that preparation, just to sit and wait? It went against everything in his nature. He may not have been the headstrong young man who charged into battle without a second thought, but he wasn't the eternally patient type either.

_And yet every moment that the shields are not down is a moment in which the realms are still free of the war wheels_, he reminded himself. Once the shields were down, the wheels could be set loose at any time.

That made it easier to wait.

Lady Anidd and Halas wove thin strands of their magic together, jade and emerald green, to form a barrier between the group and the ground. It was strange to sit on what felt like a living carpet, but it was much better than being burned by the malicious energy in every blade of grass.

No one spoke for a long time as they sat and waited. They passed a waterskin back and forth, taking small sips and trying hard not to think of wine. Volstagg dozed using Sif's legs as a pillow, while Lady Anidd curled against Kire and toyed with a stray lock of hair. Fandral watched, his jealousy fading as the minutes went by. Above them, the sun never moved, and no change in the valley hinted as to where Rhurd or its captives might be.

_Captives._There were two of them now - at least everyone seemed to marginally agree on that. It gave Thor a little hope that the Arnians could be trusted to not kill Loki on sight. There was no arguing that Loki was guilty of horrible crimes, but the more Thor had heard of Rhurd's cunning deception, the more he believed that Loki's cleverness had finally been blinded by his lust for power and vengeance.

"Have you ever heard the story of the Bird Child, Thor?" asked Halas. Thor opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at Halas. He hadn't realized he'd been dozing.

"I have not," said Thor, wondering what this had to do with anything. Halas nodded and leaned back, supporting his weight on his hands. Lady Anidd folded her hands in her lap and Kire watched Halas with a studied blank expression. Everyone looked at Halas.

"It's an old story, as old as Arnheim itself. I can tell it to you, if you like." He waited until Thor nodded, a little bewildered, and began.

"The first Queen of Arnheim, it's said, was a brave and honorable ruler. The gods formed her from stone and iron, and gave her hair of silver. From the salt of the sea they created her people, and when she saw them, she wept tears of joy. Wherever her tears fell grew a tree, until the forest covered the whole of Arnheim except the sea. The Queen and her people built their cities in the branches, and forgot the ground.

"The Queen, as I've said, was brave and honorable, and her people loved her. But she grew weary of lying alone every night, and searched the realms for a man worthy enough to share her bed. She found him on a little world, a quiet world, and stole him away from his friends and family to be her lover. They were happy for many years, but he, unlike the Queen, felt the passing of time and longed to see his loved ones again. He promised to return to her after one year, to stay with her forever, and with great pain she let him go. She told him to be careful only to dress in the clothes she'd given him, and to only eat and drink from the plate and cup they had shared, or he would forget the forest of Arnheim and never return to her.

"His father was a jealous man, and seeing that his son was favored by such a woman, plotted to ruin his son's happiness. He tore his son's rich clothes; he broke the fine cup and plate. At length, and with many cruel words, the father made the son believe it had all been a dream, and that he had better put on his old clothes and go on living his old life.

"The Queen knew the moment she had lost her lover, and wept. No trees grew from her tears this time, but the tears flowed all the way to the sea, and made it bitter with sadness.

"The only salvation from her endless grief was the knowledge that she was with child, and she pledged to raise their baby with all the love and joy she could. And yet, the Queen did not give up hope that one day she would be reunited with her lover, and they would watch their child grow together. When the baby was born, it was a little girl, as happy and pretty as you could imagine. The Queen named her Hope, but in the tree cities, the word for hope and the word for bird are the same - and so everyone simply called her Bird Child.

"Bird Child was curious, as most children are, and she wandered far, never doubting the safety of the tree cities. One day, as she wandered, she came across a little winding path. She followed it, not realizing how time passed and that her mother was worried for her. She had no fear of pain until she stepped on a rotted branch and fell to the ground. The pain of falling was nothing to the terror of where she found herself. Bird Child had never seen the ground before, and wept with fear. She cried for her mother to come find her, but she had wandered too far, and no one could hear her.

"When she could walk again, she got up and tried to make her way home. The stories get a little confused here - some say she drowned in the Bitter Sea or froze to death, but the oldest of the Arnians believe she wandered into her father's world, through some hole between the kingdoms, and her grandfather took her. In the end, Bird Child was lost, and the hope of Arnheim was lost with her. The Queen could hardly bear the weight of her grief, and wandered the trees, calling for Bird Child, until she faded into a wraith and blew apart on the wind. A tiny mote of her mad grief fell into the heart of all Arnians, and only by staying together could they avoid falling victim to her madness.

"It's said she still looks for Bird Child, calling her name on the wind. Whatever really happened to her, she still had faith that she would find Bird Child and her lover, and they would be together again. Faith does not let hope die."

"Faith does not let hope die," said Lady Anidd and Kire at the same time. It sounded like a prayer.

Thor had no idea why Halas had chosen to tell that story, at that moment. It was too tragic - and wasn't there already enough heartbreak in their little circle? He nodded at Halas, unsure what to say, and went back to his own thoughts.

Halas stared at Thor, a frown puckering the skin between his eyebrows, and looked away. He seemed almost disappointed.

"If we're telling stories now," said Volstagg without opening his eyes, "I know one about -"

"No more stories, please," said Thor. He rubbed his face. "They're meant for the halls of home. It's too dark here for stories."

"It _is _getting dark, now that you mention it," said Fandral. "Maybe the sun is finally setting."

Sif looked up at the sky, shading her eyes, and made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. "Thor," she said.

Thor followed her gaze. Everyone did.

The sun wasn't setting. It was going out.

* * *

"I take it the shields are down now," said Hogun.

Let's move," said Thor. He couldn't help feeling a small thrill - finally, a threat, however subtle, had appeared, and he could deal with that. He was born for moments like this. "No weapons yet, but be prepared to use them. Stay together." It would soon be too dark to see, and he wanted his companions close by before any new evil fell upon them.

Somewhere on his left, Halas whispered something in a language Thor didn't recognize and two balls of light shimmered into being above their heads.

"They won't last long," said Halas, "but if I made them any stronger, we'd get far too much attention." Thor agreed with him; the sun was gone and not a single star shone to replace it. Outside of the light, everything was in darkness. Thor heard the soughing of a soft wind, and underneath it, the faint crash and boom of waves.

He'd seen no water when they'd arrived, not even a stream, and certainly not enough water to make as much noise as he was hearing. It came from far below them.

Thor swore. "No one move! There's some sorcery at work here."

"_Really?"_said Lady Anidd. "I hadn't noticed."

"Listen!" he hissed. "Do you hear the water?"

"The water? But why would we..." Volstagg took a step to his left, leaving the circle of light for just an instant, and nearly topped as his foot slid over an edge no one knew was there. "Blast!" he bellowed, and his voice echoed back from far walls. Only Hogun grabbing his arm and pulling him back kept him from tumbling over.

"Close up!" ordered Thor. He was relieved when no one questioned him and they all bunched together in the middle of what they now knew to be a narrow strip of stone that bridged a chasm. Thor thought of the seductive meadow and how they had instinctively avoided exploring it. Volstagg had slipped so easily. Thor repressed a shudder and took a breath.

"We go forward, in pairs," he said. "Weapons at the ready, and Halas - a little more light would be appreciated."

"Thor, if I use any more magic, there's no telling what we'll bring down upon us," said Halas.

"So be it. Our enemy already knows we're coming. We should not let fear of what it may send against us keep us from arming ourselves."

"Do it, Halas," said Kire. Halas sighed and muttered another word. Two more lights flared into life above his hands and sailed into the air.

Thor edged to the side of the stone bridge and looked down. His stomach flipped. It was a sheer drop to the water below - water he still couldn't see, but heard all too clearly. He tried to guess at how far it was to the water, and gave up. The fall alone may not kill an Aesir or Arnian, but if Fairin's blood was in play, the fall was fatal.

"Stay away from the edges," he said needlessly. The group was bunched up in tight pairs in the center of the bridge. Kire stood at the head of the group, waiting for his orders. In any other situation, her ceding authority to him would have been an honor and a privilege, but it gave him no pleasure now.

"Let's go," he said. As he took the first step, he realized - a little belatedly - that beyond the circle of light surrounding them, the cavern was completely dark. The bridge might end just a few feet in front of them.

He was about to call for more light but Halas anticipated him. One of the light globes soared past them into the dark, illuminating the path ahead of them. The way looked solid enough, but Thor reminded himself to tread lightly as he began the journey deep into Henusgard.

They walked for what Thor judged to be two hours before he allowed them to stop and rest. The bridge angled downward, ever so slightly, and the air had gotten colder the farther they walked. It was only chilly, but there was a frosty bite to the light breeze that traveled up from far below them that reminded Thor of Jotunheim. He shivered.

He made them keep moving before they had time to do more than stretch their legs, but no one protested. The breeze coming up through the cavern smelled too ripe, too cold, and the crash of the waves was getting louder. No one wanted to linger.

Stones began to litter the path. Thor picked one up and threw it out past the edge of the light, waiting to hear if it struck a wall up ahead, but no sound came. The stone just disappeared into darkness.

There was an instant of silence, then a stone whipped out the darkness ahead of them. Sif had enough time to raise her shield, but the impact nearly drove her to her knees. There was a fist-sized dent in her shield.

"What the -" said Volstagg, just as another rock struck him in the head. Another rock followed, and another. The rubble around them vibrated with energy as a storm of rock flew at them out of the darkness, driving them all to the ground. Those who had shields - Lady Anidd, Sif, and Hogun - did their best to protect the others, but the stones poured against them in an unbroken flood. Thor felt one strike him just above his eye as he crouched down, trying to shield his face, and cringed as a warm rill of blood trickled down his temple.

The stones stopped, as abruptly as they'd begun, but Thor kept himself from looking around until he'd counted off a minute in his head. He swiped the blood from his face with his arm and looked up, ready to hide his face again if another hail of stones began. Behind him, his companions rose, groaning. All of them were hurt, bleeding from gouges left by the stones - none fatally, or even seriously enough to hinder them. Thor was relieved. They'd made it this far without losing anyone; it was still folly to be optimistic but he couldn't stop himself.

His optimism burned out like a candle in an airless room when a single whispered word made Halas' light blaze up like sunlight. They shaded their eyes from the glare, and when their vision cleared, the vast expanse of the cavern around them was illuminated. They stood in an enormous hollow, the walls dripping with foul moisture, and below them the water rushed on and on.

Not more than fifty paces ahead of them was a broad, rough plateau. Paths branched off from it at all angles, twisting back in on themselves before disappearing into openings in the far walls. What may have been crumbled statues or mere piles of rock were heaped at regular intervals on its edge, and at its center blazed a sickly white fire.

A figure stood facing them in front of the fire, hands clasped in front of its waist. It was tall and willowy, clothed in a flowing but ragged midnight blue robe, and its bald head gleamed in the fire's light. It smiled at them, showing too many sharp teeth crowded together in a sweet child's mouth.

"Welcome, warriors," it said. Its voice was joyful. "I couldn't wait to see you, all of you, so I came to greet you myself. Welcome to Henusgard!" It spread its arms wide. There was a flicker of movement on the other side of the flames, but Thor ignored it to focus on the danger before him.

"You're Rhurd," he said.

"And you're Thor Odinsson." Rhurd's smile never faltered. "I know all of you very well. Fandral, who hides a coward's heart beneath a courtly lover's mask. Hogun, who barely speaks out of fear of being laughed at. Volstagg, the glutton who doesn't realize there's nothing that will fill that vacancy in his heart. And Lady Sif, who longed to be a man so much that no man will ever love her." The words struck his friends like knife blows. Rhurd smiled, and turned its eyes to the Arnians.

"Then there's Lady Anidd, a whore who still weeps for the children she'll never bear. Kire Ohona, the Queen's right hand, who dreams of blood each night and cannot admit love for anything but her blades." Kire's mouth twitched, her hand tightening on the pommel of her sword. She took a half-step to her side, trying to block Halas from view, but Rhurd was already speaking.

"And let me not neglect Halas, who wears another's face, who is destined to cause pain wherever he goes. So many have trusted in his powers, and he's failed them all. And yet there are still those who still have faith that he will come into glory." Rhurd laughed. "I know all of you. And now I'm going to watch you die."

"Rhurd!" Thor bellowed the word and his voice filled the cavern. He felt Mjolnir sing in his hand. "You have not said what you know of me!" He raised his hammer, ready to strike, when Rhurd laughed again.

"I know everything about you, Odinsson, but I decided a demonstration would be best." It snapped its fingers, and something moved behind the fire. It was another figure, head bowed between its shoulders, moving stiffly like it was in great pain. It shuffled to Rhurd's side and stood there, head down. Thor could hear its struggle for breath.

Halas cried out, a long, inarticulate sound of pure agony. Only Kire's arm against his chest kept him from running toward the fires and those who stood before it.

Rhurd waved its hand and the light globe dropped down to hover at shoulder level. The light fell on a woman, pale and grimed with dirt under a long matted tangle of dark hair. She was rail-thin, every point of bone showing through her skin, and her veins stood out in a delicate pattern of black lines. She didn't move as Rhurd slipped a hand around her shoulders and stroked her skin. Halas made a choked sound and struggled against Kire's arm.

"You and your brother fascinate me, Odinsson," said Rhurd. "There was such love between you for so long, and in the end it took so little to let it die. He stole your throne, and you let him fall into madness and disgrace. Now, look what you two have created!"

Rhurd tilted the woman's head up with a finger under her chin. Her face was the real horror. Her eyes were dead, but it was what covered the lower half of her face that chilled Thor to his marrow.

Loki's gag. The enchanted metal he himself had placed on Loki, knowing it would sunder his brother from his magic, hating himself as he fastened it, seeing the hate in Loki's eyes as he stepped away. Fairin wore it now, and it glowed with obscene life against her grey skin.

"The wheels are really secondary, compared to her," said Rhurd. It traced the line of Fairin's jaw and Thor's skin crawled. "I hope you liked my little rain of rock," it said. "It did a wonderful job of preparing you for her, didn't it?"

Thor realized with a jolt that everyone in the group was bleeding. Their open wounds were invitations for Fairin's blood.

Fairin shivered. A thin black line of fluid dripped from under the gag.

_Damn. _

Rhurd leaned in and whispered in Fairin's ear. Its voice was almost silent, but the cavern caught its words and flung them at Thor and his companions.

_"Kill them all."_

"Fairin!" screamed Halas. She shrieked against the gag, long and wordless, and began to run toward them.


	12. Chapter 12: Twins and Brothers

AN: I'm writing this fanfic as part of a "first thought, best thought" challenge - we're allowed to proofread for grammar/punctuation/glaring continuity errors, but the point of this challenge is to write without the safety net of massive revisions. It's been exciting to see what happens when that particular bit of insurance is removed. I hope you enjoy it!

AN2: Thank you for reading! Any feedback is appreciated - and it's the best way to get me to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvelous characters, places, or things, but I do own all original creations.

* * *

She came barefoot over the stones, her fingers hooked into claws and ready to gouge at any flesh she could reach.

She stumbled once as she ran toward them, as fleet as a female wolf, and Thor let himself feel a futile burst of hope that she would fall over the edge and slip under the thundering water. It would have been kind.

She fell, but only to her knees. Then she kept running, now on all fours, her head lowered between her shoulders like a bull and still shrieking. Her pain must have been intolerable. Lady Anidd chanted something under her breath and he felt his skin itch as some huge energy built up behind him. Whatever she was doing, it wasn't fast enough - Fairin was ten paces away, close enough for Thor to see raw red patches on her temples where the hair was gone. Lady Anidd shouted a word and the bridge beneath his feet began to crack, shaking apart as the spell strengthened, but Fairin was an arm's length away.

Thor had a moment to decide: could he kill Fairin?

The answer was _yes._

Thor swung. He meant to hit her in the chest and crush her heart, flinging her over the side of the bridge for good measure. It was a good, solid swing, one he could feel completing its trajectory and striking Fairin's body before it actually happened, and it missed.

To be more precise, Fairin dropped down, monstrously fast, and Mjolnir flew through the air an instant later, just where her head had been. She jerked upright before Thor could swing again, crouching down for a leap that would take him down, and there was nothing he could do to defend himself before she was flying through the air toward him.

Lady Anidd shouted a word and a jade-green sphere of light exploded outward from her open hands.

* * *

Loki had no idea how long he'd been running. He refused to stop. He knew if he paused to rest his legs he might never get up again - too many days without food, too much pain, and he was reaching the ends of what physical strength he had.

His magic was still with him, and its pulse was strong. He held it down, all but a thin tendril that he sent out to light his way. The corridors were all the same, no matter how many turnings he followed.

The only time he allowed himself a pause was when the walls shook and a deep roar built up under his feet. He smelled salt and smoke, and underneath those smells, the coppery rust of blood.

The wheel - the wheels - were awake.

Thor was here.

Loki ran harder.

* * *

The concussion from the blast threw them all to the ground, and tossed Fairin backward like a leaf. She landed just outside the sphere's circumference and was immediately on her feet, clawing at the surface and whimpering like a beaten dog. Thor could see how the black stains covered even the whites of her eyes.

"I can't hold it for long, Kire," Lady Anidd said through gritted teeth. "Send him back!"

"No!" shouted Halas. He struggled in Kire's arms, his eyes never leaving Fairin as she scratched at the shield. "I'm not leaving you! I can help you!" He drove his elbow into Kire's stomach but she didn't flinch.

"You're no good to any of us dead, you fool!" said Kire. She tightened her arms around him. Fairin keened, her head thrown back, and threw herself against the shield. Lady Anidd cried out. Only Hogun catching her kept her from falling. The shield wavered at the point of impact but did not break.

Rhurd watched them without blinking. Thor felt it storing up their suffering, delighting in it, and he wanted nothing more than to spend hours breaking every bone in the creature's body, by hand. He couldn't - he was kept from taking a single step toward Rhurd by the shield that protected him.

He growled. _If I am to make an end, _he prayed to whatever spirits happened to be listening. _Let me make such an end that I take this abomination with me. If this is the place where the thread of my life is cut, so be it. Only let me destroy my enemy. _

Fairin paced in front of the shield. Thor heard Lady Anidd panting behind him. He could feel the shield weakening, something Fairin sensed as well. She - or Rhurd, since that monster was the master of her mind - waited for the shield to fall. When it did, she would take them.

Rhurd barked out a command and Fairin jerked around to look at her master. Her black shift fell from one shoulder and Thor saw the vivid red scars that followed the lines of her spine and ribs.

_What torments have you seen?_he asked her silently, and felt a sad pity for her. She had lived in terror and pain for years, and terror and pain were all she would know as she died.

Rhurd was on the point of making another command, but some sound, as soft as a footfall, caught its attention. It looked toward one of the openings into the rock walls. It hissed, some dark emotion crossing its face as it turned back to them.

Thor heard nothing but the rush of waves, but Fairin's eyes followed where Rhurd's gaze had led. She mewled, the sound strangled by the gag, and raised her fingers to her cheeks.

Thor blinked and saw Loki stumble out of the opening.

* * *

Thor was the first one he saw, sealed up behind a translucent wall of glowing jade. His brother's face made his breath catch in his throat. Thor was _here_, Thor had come to bring him home.

Loki saw Fairin, the black blood dripping from under the gag, and knew Thor had come to die.

"Rhurd!" shouted Loki. His voice didn't betray him; it was strong and kingly. "Rhurd! This ends, now!"

Rhurd laughed without turning. "How can it end, Liesmith? You are bound to her and the wheels are awake!"

Far below him, Loki heard the crash of waves. The edge of the platform was only a few feet away. He could be over the edge in three steps. He probably wouldn't even feel the impact. _The wheels won't work with just one._

Rhurd read his intention and threw him back with a flick of its wrist. He shielded himself but the impact drove him down to his knees. Fairin watched, her eyes moving so quickly between Loki and Rhurd that they were only a grey blur in the darkness.

"Loki!" shouted Thor. Their eyes met across the flames and stones.

"Brother," whispered Loki. He could have sworn Thor heard, and smiled.

* * *

Thor felt too much, hurt too much, to react when Halas broke out of Kire's grasp and ran to the edge of the shield. "Fairin," he whispered. "Come back to us, Fairin. We are not your enemy!" Fairin began to shake. Halas pressed his hand to the shield. It parted at his touch.

"Halas, stop!" Lady Anidd yelled hoarsely. "You can't save her like this!"

_Halas?_

The man's face was half-obscured by shadow, but what he could see was enough to chill him. His own face, wracked with fear and need and a love so terrible it galled him.

_Halas._

The man's eyes left Fairin's for an instant, and met his. Aesir green, forest green - they were the same.

* * *

_"This is home," says Fairin. She is on a platform in a tree. The leaves are longer than she is tall, and a riot of autumnal color surrounds her. She touches the trunk of the tree. "My memories are coming back," she says. "I remember the wind in the branches and the smell of salt." _

_"The Bitter Sea," says Halas. "The wind blows its scent to us. I can take you there tomorrow, if you like." He stands a few feet away from her, watching as she circles the platform. He's discarded his black robe. Underneath it, he wears a green tunic over a long-sleeved brown shirt and brown trousers. A silver circlet crosses his forehead and holds back his hair. _

_She shudders and Halas waits, knowing he's made a mistake. _

_"My father told me my mother drowned in the Bitter Sea," says Fairin. "I don't want to see it. Not yet."_

_Halas watches her face, the way the scar at her mouth whitens when she twists her lips, and nods. "Forgive me. I have no wish to cause you pain." _

_She nods and takes a deep breath. "You make me feel very underdressed," she says in a lighter voice, glancing at his clothes. "Is there any chance I could change?"_

_"There's a change of clothes waiting in your room. And a bath, if you want one." He pinks slightly. "I meant no offense, my lady." _

_She laughs, delighted with his sudden embarrassment or her new title. "None taken. I probably smell like a barn. Which way to my room?" _

_He points across the platform to a staircase that spirals up another tree trunk. "Right at the top." _

_"Thank you." She has to pass him to get to the stairs, and she pauses at his side. "You brought me home," she says, and there's such a great weight of gratitude in her voice that Halas has to look away. "I owe you so much." _

_"It's nothing -" _

_"It's everything," she says, emphatically. She takes his hand and squeezes it in both of hers. His eyes meet hers, forest green to sea grey, and now she looks away, blushing. _

_She doesn't look back as she climbs the stairs, but he watches her, every step. _

* * *

Loki came back to himself with a gasp. Halas' eyes gleam across the distance between them, possessive and sad and furious all at once. No one moved. They all watched the twinned men watch each other, silent until Fairin, obeying some silent signal, threw herself at the shield again.

Lady Anidd screamed. Halas thrusts his hand through the opening, even as Lady Anidd fought to close it, his eyes desperate as he reached for Fairin. She rose to her feet, swaying slightly, and Loki saw her raise her arm - not to clutch but to break.

"Thor!" he cried out. His brother was closest to Halas, and if anyone could save this man with Loki's face, it was Thor. But Thor's eyes never left Loki's face, as if seeing his brother again has sapped him of all his boundless bravery.

Kire moved instead. She wrenched Halas back, just as Fairin's nails would have opened his arm from elbow to wrist, and dragged him back into the protective circle as Lady Anidd closed the opening. Halas snarled at Kire, throwing ineffectual fists in her direction. Kire's response was a blow to the side of his head. His struggling stopped and he fell groaning to his knees. Thor tore his eyes from Loki long enough to see Kire snatch a handful of air in her fist and _twist_. She sucked the spell through her fist, murmuring something, and a warm, humid gust of air blew past Thor. An opening had appeared before Kire at waist-level, and it was from here the wind spilled. It smelled of earth and sweet moss. He had a brief glimpse of dusk and trees moving in a soft wind before Kire lifted Halas by the front of his tunic and shoved him into the opening, peeling away the fingers that clutched at her sleeves and hair.

"You can't - I have to stay -!" Halas cried, and Kire struck him again. He went limp, tumbling down and out of Thor's sight, and with that same little twist, she closed the opening. Just in time - Lady Anidd slumped to her knees with a groan and the sphere blew apart. The sudden return of pressure made Thor's ears ache, but he heard a low, victorious growl and turned to see Fairin slithering toward him over the stones. He lifted Mjolnir. He would not miss again.

He never had time to swing. Kire threw herself in front of Fairin, moving as silently as light, and crouched down. The axe was in her hand.

"I know it's you in her head, Rhurd," said Kire quietly. "Let's see if you can feel the bite of my axe." She lifted the axe above her head, the blade gleaming in the dim light. Her body was a long elegant line in the darkness.

Thor and Loki saw Rhurd move at the same time. They shouted a warning together, but Kire either didn't see her danger as it came or didn't care. Rhurd's thin black lightless arrow struck her in the chest, at the join of her shoulder and breastplate. She made no sound as she fell, but Lady Anidd screamed, her hands at her cheeks as she watched Kire collapse almost gracefully.

"No," whispered Loki. He could see Kire's fingers clutch at the handle of her axe, and how Volstagg tried to shield her as Fairin crawled over the stones, a trail of black blood following her. Thor pulled Volstagg back, out of Fairin's reach, but all Fairin's attention was on Kire. She wiped her fingertips through the slow fall of fluid at her chin, and brushed them against the wound in Kire's chest gently, almost lovingly. Kire made a high sound that whistled into nothing, and clutched at Fairin's hand.

They all saw how Kire's body shook and how her hair pooled underneath her as the tremors became a spasm. She tried to make a sound, but nothing came out of her mouth.

Kire Ohona was an immortal no longer. Fairin watched as she died, and Rhurd laughed.

The laugh brought Lady Anidd to her feet. Sif caught at her tunic and hissed her name, but Lady Anidd ignored her. She stumbled to Kire's body, moaning under her breath and trembling. Fairin never raised her head, but Loki could see how Rhurd leaned forward, its whole body quivering with fascination. Its lips parted and a wet red tongue slid over its teeth.

He would have one chance, just one chance, to put this right. He would not miss.

The beam left his hand silently and he'd given no warning, but the second before his magic would have toppled Rhurd over the edge, the creature turned, its robes a blur, and Loki's spell bounced harmlessly off its shielded hand and flashed through the air. Loki called it back frantically, knowing where it would strike, and saw Thor's horror as his death flew toward him.

Lady Anidd saved him. Her eyes were dull with grief, but she could move with unnatural speed. She took the spell in the chest and fell as silently as Kire, dead as Loki's warning cry left his mouth. He was on his feet and running toward Thor before he knew what he was doing. His only thought was to save his brother.

"You're damned forever, Liesmith," Rhurd shouted as Loki rushed past him. Loki heard Rhurd's spell and dodged to the side as it whined toward him. It clipped his side, burning away the top few layers of his armor, but faded before it reached his skin. He didn't slow his pace.

Fairin rose, her eyes still fixed on the dead Arnians at her feet, but Rhurd spat out a word and she faced Thor, her blood still smeared on her hands as she reached for him.

Loki threw her to the ground as her fingers brushed Thor's breastplate. She didn't struggle when he pinned her down with his body, but when he scrabbled for the latch at the back of the gag, she started to fight. He didn't know if it was Rhurd's influence or her own, and he didn't care. The metal bit and burned at his skin as he fought to pull it from her, but even as the pain jolted up his arms he still worked, burrowing into her matted hair until he found the latch, and released it.

Rhurd howled. The sound echoed off the walls, unending. Lesser warriors would have run on hearing it, but Sif and the Warriors Three only rushed at the monster, bellowing their war cries with Thor at their head.

Loki heard its magic strike their armor and prayed, in a dim and calm corner of his mind, that what he was doing was enough of a distraction to save his friends. Fairin still fought underneath him, but his strength was greater than hers and once the latch was undone, she grew still. He turned her over and pulled the gag away. Rhurd howled again and Fairin coughed, choking on the black blood that filled her ruined mouth. Loki saw only a glimpse of the three serrated blades that lined the inside of the gag before he tossed it into the waters below. He lifted Fairin and bent her head forward to clear her mouth. He could hear the battle, and Thor's roars above the raging of axe and magic, and let himself feel relief. Thor was alive.

Thor was fighting. This he understood, this he craved: the wholesale destruction of a truly evil creature. Rhurd shoot its sooty black arrows at him but Mjolnir knocked them away and they crumbled into dust. Sif feinted, Fandral jabbed, Hogun bludgeoned, Volstagg battered. The five of them were perfectly attuned to each other's fighting styles, and Rhurd was no physical match for them, even with its magic. The battle was disappointingly short. Leaking some noxious fluid from under its robe and missing an eye, Rhurd staggered away from them, its arms thrown wide. Thor gestured his friends back, expecting some new sorcery, but Rhurd only skittered to the side of the platform. It had grown less human and more insect-like as it fought, as if some vital glamour had been leached away by its spells. More than two legs moved under the remains of its robe.

"The wheels still turn," it hissed through a mouth clogged with hate. It pointed to Loki as he cradled Fairin. "As long as they live, the wheels turn!" It threw itself over the side, and Thor swore he heard it laughing as it fell.

They were all silent for a long time. Thor made his way to Loki, who watched him warily. He held Fairin tightly against his chest.

"Brother, please," he said. Thor's chest tightened in the twin grips of fury and longing. The last time Loki called him brother, it was a trick. He'd used those exact words. Thor gripped Mjolnir and tried to decide whether or not to strike Loki. Sif and the Warriors Three waited, ready to follow his example, He could sense their rage and betrayal, with its undercurrent of sad love.

Loki looked at Lady Anidd and Kire. "We can't leave them here," he said, his voice very soft. "They deserve to go home to rest." The gentleness in his voice, the unfamiliar remorse, was Thor's undoing. When Loki met his eyes, he felt his fury crumble. All that was left was grief.

"Brother," said Loki again. "Fairin's dying, we have to -" he stopped as his voice gave out. "We have to take her home."

Surrounded by death, Thor still found it in himself to smile.


End file.
